


Praises

by cecemarty, LumosLyra



Series: Praises, Pleasures & Perfection [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ancient magic, Angst, Blow Jobs, Come Kink, Consent is Sexy, Cunnilingus, Curses, Drunk Hermione Granger, Explicit Consent, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Infertility, Jealousy, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Panty Kink, Post-War, Praise Kink, Pregnancy, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Tattoos, Threesome - F/M/M, Triad - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25298110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecemarty/pseuds/cecemarty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra
Summary: Thorfinn Rowle just wanted to make sure Hermione Granger got home safely after finding her drunk in a bar. After she lures him to her bed and meets his roommate, the very same man who cursed her all those years ago in the Department of Mysteries, she finds herself tangled up in the affections of the two men.  But with ancient magic at play, what will it take to convince Hermione that it's possible to have them both?
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger, Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle, Hermione Granger/Thorfinn Rowle
Series: Praises, Pleasures & Perfection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833745
Comments: 402
Kudos: 752
Collections: Good Girl Hermione





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alpha love to Curly_Kay and msmerlin. Beta love to AvidReader2008 and lolitaweasley! Y’all are rockstars and we are so incredibly appreciative of your time and attention to this fic! 
> 
> This fic started as a one-shot, turned into a ten-chapter fic, which turned into a 36-chapter fic, which turned into a three-part series. We absolutely love this triad and the story that has stemmed from them. Thank you for reading!

Hermione was drunk, but not just drunk—completely inebriated, giggling uncontrollably, stumbling into walls, tripping over her own feet, and apparently falling on everyone else too. 

Daphne had insisted she go out and ‘let loose’, but Daphne drank herself sleepy and passed out on the floor. _Lightweight_ . Hermione barely had the wherewithal to call the witch’s fiance and tell him to come to pick her up, since Hermione wasn’t about to try and send a drunk witch through the floo. _That_ was bad news; not quite as bad as apparating, but it definitely wasn’t fun. 

She should have gone home with Draco when he arrived to collect his fiance, but she insisted she was fine and was going to have just ‘one more drink,’ somehow managing to hold herself together enough that he didn’t realize exactly how drunk she was… at least, she hoped not. 

She had good intentions, but one more drink turned into one more bottle. Let’s be honest: single, lonely, and barren in your thirties when all your friends are having babies, getting married and living a normal life? Calls for being drunk—very, _very_ drunk. 

After bumping into every barstool in the pub and unintentionally falling over multiple people on her quest to find the washroom, Hermione found herself stumbling face-first into a brick wall. She could blame the heels, but with the number of charms for both comfort and stabilization that were placed on this particular set, it was unlikely. 

Her hand drew down over the soft cotton-covered planes as she steadied herself. Fully expecting to feel rough, pock-marked brick beneath her hand, she waited for the rush of pain to come from stumbling face-first into the wall. But it didn’t come. Instead, something smoky and masculine caught her attention. 

Hold, please. 

Hermione forced her inebriated mind to consider the known fact. Brick walls did not smell like heaven incarnate, nor were they pliable or covered in soft cotton.

“Easy there, princess. You should watch where you’re going. It wouldn’t do for you to end up in the arms of someone dangerous.” The brick wall’s voice was low and husky and sent a tingle down her spine to a particular place in between her legs that was long overdue for some attention. 

Definitely not a wall.

She braced herself on the shoulders of the man who had the unfortunate pleasure of catching her and looked up at him through thick lashes. It took a moment for her vision to clear but when he came into focus, he was really quite handsome. Stupidly so. 

She meant to say something snarky in retort about how she could handle herself, how she was a strong independent woman—but nope. Drunk Hermione, who came complete with a loose tongue and lack of self-control had something else in mind. 

“Wow, you’re fit.” Truly, the words bubbled up before she could stop them. 

The man chuckled, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “Thanks. Not so bad yourself there, princess.” 

She suddenly felt parched and her throat constricted as she swallowed, loudly. “Well, I need a drink.” 

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there. Let’s get you home or to a hotel at least; let you sleep off some of your alcohol first.” The brick wall— _man_ placed his large hands on her biceps to steady her as she wobbled on her too-high heels.

One of her fingers poked into his chest. “I don’t sleep with people I meet in the bar, no matter how good they smell.” Must her mouth say everything she was thinking?

He laughed, loud and harsh before leaning down close to her ear, “In this state, princess, you wouldn’t be a good shag anyway.” 

She gripped the man’s t-shirt and pulled him close, “You would be surprised at what I can do, even in this state.” She tried to wiggle her eyebrows in a paltry attempt at flirting, but it only made her feel dizzy, and she ended up pressing her face against his chest to stop the room from spinning. 

Why did he have to smell so good?

The man’s deep voice lifted in obvious amusement.“Come on, let’s get you out of here before you get yourself in trouble.” 

She refused to budge. Pushing back from his chest and catching herself before she fell, Hermione crossed her arms and leveled a challenging gaze in his direction. 

He chuckled, clearly not swayed by her taunting, and bent down, wrapping his arms around her to hoist her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Whoa, I can walk!” she squealed, smacking her fists again his back in protest and kicking her feet out. 

“I’m sure you can, but it will be much faster like this.” 

As he slowly maneuvered them through the throng of people, Hermione huffed, “Fine.” 

“Merlin’s tit,” she muttered under her breath as she ogled his toned backside, clearly mesmerized by the way it moved when he walked. 

“What, princess?” 

“Your arse is—nevermind.” She snapped her mouth closed so she wouldn’t say more.

She felt the rumble of laughter as the man carried her out of the bar. Her elbow rested on the back of his shoulder and she placed her chin on the palm of her hand, pouting over the fact that _now_ she really was done drinking.

“If I set you down, will you floo home?” 

It took a moment, but she realized that he had taken her to the public floo in the Leaky Cauldron. “Do you trust I will actually go home?” Her brows raised as she stared up at the mountain of a man, the lights from the bar obscuring his features as he looked down at her.

She reached over and grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the wooden container anchored to the hearth. Tossing the emerald powder into the waiting flames, she stepped inside, but just before she could finish calling out the address, the man grabbed her hand and they went through the network together. 

They tumbled into her living room and Hermione fell to her hands and knees, chest heaving as the nausea threatened to overwhelm her. _Better than apparition, but still entirely unpleasant._

The man siphoned the soot from their clothing with a flick of his wand before he helped her to her feet. His strong grip held her steady until she could do so herself, and then he turned to say his goodbye. 

“Don’t leave!” Suddenly, she was desperate for him to stay and the pitch of her voice seemed to carry that sentiment. 

She chewed on her lip and fidgeted with her hands. “I don’t even know your name. How am I supposed to thank you later if I don’t know your name?” She blinked, eyelashes fluttering as she forced herself to stay awake when a yawn was pulled from her lungs. Her hand flew over her mouth to stifle the sound and to keep the handsome stranger from getting a full view of her uvula.

He smiled at her and motioned down the short hall where the other rooms of the house lay. “Don’t worry about me, come on. Let’s get you in bed.” 

She bumped into his chest, staring up at his imposing frame as she refused to move a single step. “I already told you, I don’t sleep with men I pick up from the bar.” 

“And I already told you, I tend not to sleep with inebriated witches who can’t hold their liquor or their tongue.” She shirked back when he leaned down, his face twisted in mild annoyance and something entirely too close to amusement for her liking, but it didn’t stop her eyes from flicking to his lips. 

With a purse of her lips, Hermione twisted around and started off towards her bedroom, but stopped when she collided with an actual wall. She slumped against it, only to feel a pair of strong hands lifting her up. Her mind was spinning and everything seemed fuzzy, but the man who carried her was warm and soft and she leaned into him until he set her down onto her own bed. She vaguely recalled hearing the clinking of vials in her bathroom before feeling the herbal-mint elixir of the sober-up potion fill her mouth. 

It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep. 

Two hours later, she jolted awake with a desperate need to pee. She ran into the connected bathroom and relieved herself, but while washing her hands, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and her mouth fell open. 

“Oh Merlin, I am a wreck.” 

Her previously sleek, bouncy ringlets had returned to their normally unmanageable state and her curls were sticking out in all directions. Her smokey eye make-up had settled underneath her eyes and gave the distinct impression that she was a badger. Lipstick was smeared along her cheek and her dress was thoroughly wrinkled. Disheveled didn’t even seem to cover it. 

She quickly undressed, tossing her clothing into the hamper and turned the taps on in the shower. The longer she stood waiting for the water to become warm, the more her stomach began to protest, and she quickly scoured her cabinet for a potion. Popping the caps from a set of matching vials, Hermione downed a sober-up and an anti-nausea potion. 

After a quick shower to rinse the worst of the grime from her body, she pulled her hair into a bun on top of her head and shuffled back to her bed naked, crawling under the covers. 

* * *

Light was filtering in through her window when she finally awoke. She burrowed deeper into the covers until she caught the smell of fresh coffee and the sizzle of sausage coming from the kitchen.

Covering her eyes with the heels of her hand, Hermione tried to remember anything about last night as she pressed her palms against her closed eyes. “What the fuck did I do last night?” No matter how many times she flipped through the images in her mind, she couldn’t remember anything after Daphne passed out on the floor next to her and she called Draco to retrieve his fiance. 

She twisted in bed and reached over for her phone, pleased that her drunk alter-ego remembered to put it on the charger before she went to bed, and noted that there was a text from Draco at 2 am:

 **Draco:** _Went back to the bar and you weren’t there. I am going to assume you made it home okay. If Daph or I don’t hear from you by 10 am I’m going to sic Potter on you._

She chuckled—always protective, that one, and quickly typed out a reply.

 **Hermione** ** _:_ ** _I’m alive. I probably did something incredibly stupid that may or may not still be in my kitchen, but I’m alive. See you guys tomorrow._

Her phone pinged before she could lock it. 

**Draco:** _Idiot._

Hermione snickered, swiping her finger to lock her phone before setting it back down on the nightstand. She and Draco had formed a close friendship in their eighth year, but after an awkward tumble in the sheets one drunken night, they agreed to keep their relationship strictly platonic and never speak of it again. It wasn’t like the sex had been awful, but just… _no._ She was truly happy for him when he started dating Daphne Greengrass after his betrothal contract to Astoria was nullified. Daphne was kind, intelligent, and down to earth whereas her sister was flighty and a bit dim. It was her friendship with Draco that ultimately led to Daphne being one of Hermione’s closest friends. 

Now to deal with the mistake she made. 

She rolled out of bed and trudged to her closet to dig out her favorite oversized t-shirt of her father’s that said “Granger University” and a pair of knickers from the drawer. After shimmying into the clean pair of knickers, Hermione tugged the t-shirt over her head and slipped her arms in until it brushed over her thighs, and then twisted her still damp hair back into a neater bun, securing it with her wand. 

There was no use delaying the inevitable. From the savoury scents floating through her home, there was at least the possibility of coffee and breakfast to be had, even if it came with a side of awkward conversation with the guy she didn’t remember. She tiptoed down the hallway and peered her head into the kitchen where a mountain of a man stood with his back to her. He was easily over six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick arms. His dark blonde hair was tied up into a messy bun with a few small braids woven through the strands. He was dressed, _thank Merlin,_ but that didn’t mean she didn’t pause for several moments to admire the outline of his muscles through his tight-fitting t-shirt and the way his denims hugged his arse and thighs. 

“Go drunk me,” she muttered quietly with a grin as she slowly entered the kitchen, sliding out a barstool and hopping on.

The man turned around, smiling in her direction. “Good morning.” The low timbre of his voice was enough to soak her panties alone, but combined with everything else she could see, she almost regretted wearing any beneath her t-shirt. 

She blinked up at him, owlishly, as if she’d forgotten her words.

He set a cup of coffee in front of her and she stared down at it in awe when it appeared to be the perfect color. A tentative sip confirmed it was mixed to her liking with ample amounts of cream and sugar and she hummed contentedly as the first drops of caffeine hit her soul. 

She looked back at the man who was leaning against the counter. His mouth was twisted in a smug, dangerously handsome smirk and it made her want to wipe it off if only to see a genuine smile. Now that she could see his face, properly, she took a moment to survey him. Bright blue eyes were set beneath a strong brow and his jaw bore a scruffy beard.

“Hi,” he said, and it registered that he had greeted her previously and she’d yet to do anything but stare at him as if he were a centaur who was born the wrong way round.

Hermione acknowledged him with a nod and smiled behind her cup of coffee, taking a long sip to hide her embarrassment.

“I can see you thinking. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He brushed a curl away from her face and the only thing Hermione could think was that such a handsome man really shouldn’t be able to speak in a perfect drawl like that.

Crimson flushed her cheeks and she averted her eyes to her coffee, “I was just thinking that it was a shame I don’t remember anything from last night because you look like that—” Her eyes popped up from her mug and she gestured towards him “—and well, I know what I looked like this morning and it wasn’t pretty.” 

The handsome stranger in her kitchen laughed quietly and glanced toward the ground. When he looked back up at her, he bit his full bottom lip. 

Hermione began to wonder if she was still a bit drunk because her tongue was still too loose for its own good. She barely held in the urge to cross the kitchen and bite that lip herself. 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t remember, because, one,” he counted it off on his fingers, “I don’t think my ego could handle it, and two, we didn’t do anything. I brought you home, gave you a sober-up, and slept on the couch. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t died from overconsumption of alcohol.” He leaned against the counter and took a sip from his own mug, his gaze leveled on her. There was something about it that made her want to squirm, but she resisted the urge as her eyes raked over him, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of their situation. 

“What a gentleman.” Another sip of coffee. 

“I try.” 

“My name’s Hermione.” She drained the last of the coffee in the mug but kept it in her hands for something to fidget with. 

“Oh, I know who you are, princess.” He turned to grab the pot from the maker to refill her cup. The dark liquid drained into her cup and she stifled the sharp intake of breath at his recognition. “The fact that you haven’t recognized me, however, is shocking.” 

She scanned his features with narrowed eyes and a soft expression. He looked familiar but she couldn’t place him.

“Should I recognize you?”

He pulled the cream and sugar from the counter and passed them to her before he turned back to the stove to finish breakfast. He stayed quiet as he worked, moving bread to the toaster and scooping things onto plates from their respective pans. After he plated her meal, he slid her plate across the counter of her kitchen island towards her. It was piled high with crispy sausages, scrambled eggs, and toast with jam.

She grabbed the edge of the plate, studying the meal he had prepared. It looked as good as anything she could find in the diner down the street and smelled amazing. Her stomach growled in response. 

She lifted her fork and poised it over a piece of sausage, her eyes flicking upward to meet his. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

He swallowed visibly and took a bite of toast before he responded. The silence that dragged between them caused the rumble of hunger in her stomach to flutter and shift into something akin to pixies trapped in a cage. 

“Name’s Thorfinn Rowle.” 


	2. Chapter 2

The loud  _ clink _ of Hermione’s fork falling from her hand and clattering against the edge of her plate filled the kitchen. She reached up to tug the wand from her hair, sending her curls fluttering down over her shoulders. Her lips had parted and her eyes grew wide as his name registered in her mind. “As in former  _ Death Eater _ Thorfinn Rowle?”

“Yep, that’s me. Though I prefer to go by Finn.” Hermione was amazed he was still smiling given her reaction and their shared history, not to mention the wand gripped in her hand. He even seemed completely unperturbed by her mentioning his status amongst Voldemort’s followers. She’d knocked him out in a duel just after she, Ron, and Harry had fled from Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He was a lot more handsome than she remembered, but now that she knew his name, the past aligned with the present. 

“How—how did—how did you... What?” Hermione stumbled over her words unable to articulate anything because her thoughts were tangled up worse than Devil’s Snare.

“Look, princess—” 

“I don’t know that I like that pet name you have decided to give me,” Hermione interrupted, pushing back from the counter to stand. Bracing her hands on the granite, she leaned forward. “What were you —”

“Just listen. Please.” There was something about the look in his eyes that made her pause. Instead of arguing back or kicking him out of her home, she just stared blankly, her brows creased in irritation, though it was unclear at this point if it was directed at herself or at Rowle— _ Finn _ . Thus far, he’d shown her no ill-will, even going so far as to bring her home from the bar and cook her breakfast. He deserved a say, right? 

“Okay?” She twisted her hair back up into a bun and tucked her wand away to hold it in place.

He ran his fingers through his tousled blonde hair and dropped his hand to the back of his neck. Even though she knew this was him trying to find whatever words he needed to say, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from trailing her eyes over the contour of his biceps and the way the soft fabric of his t-shirt cut gently into his skin with the flex of his arm. The change in position made his shirt ride up  _ just enough _ where she could see a defined vee as it dipped into his trousers. 

All thoughts of irritation went out of mind when she imagined running her tongue along that particular set of muscles. 

_ Focus, Hermione. _

“We were all forced to do things that we didn’t want to do during the war. I did stupid shite for a self-absorbed megalomaniac who threatened to kill my family if I didn’t. I know what you’re thinking—that’s what everyone says, but it’s the truth. One of Voldemort’s cronies held my mum at wand point while that madman burned this fucking mark in my arm.” Hermione’s eyes caught sight of the faded mark, jagged and gray amid a cluster of tattoos on his left forearm, something she hadn’t noticed before. The sight of it, tucked within sprays of delicate white tulips, daffodils, and spring crocuses made something burn low in her belly. “I didn’t want the mark, that’s probably why it looks like shite and the edges aren’t crisp like the others, but I had to keep my family safe. It was the only way.” Hermione couldn’t see that Finn glanced over at her when he finished speaking because she was resolutely staring into her coffee cup, her brows furrowed as if she could find answers to all of the mysteries of the universe in the hot liquid. 

“Antonin and I were marked together.” He paused to see if she would look at him, after a few seconds of silence, he continued even though her eyes had not raised and her finger was circling the edge of the mug. “Antonin is my best friend, now anyway. We hated each other when we were marked, thinking the other was doing the Dark Lord’s bidding for the wrong reasons, but the truth came out eventually. He’s actually my roommate. We have an apartment not too far from here.” 

The curse scar cutting across her chest twinged with a phantom ache at the mention of Dolohov and Hermione lifted her hand to run it over her brow. She’d expected to be furious, not sympathetic to Finn’s tale. She’d moved on with her life following the war and there was some small part of her that was glad to see that former Death Eaters were able to move on as well, especially those given no other choice—join or die. When her eyes finally ascended and met his, noting how relaxed he still seemed and how easily he had accepted and moved on from the events in the past, Hermione realized that the low ache in her stomach was arousal. Clearly, finding out that this man was a former Death Eater did nothing to stem her attraction to him.

It was only when his brow furrowed that she realized she had been staring for an interminable amount of time. She cleared her throat and picked up her fork. “So, how did you end up being the one to take me home?” 

The smile returned to his face and his mood seemed to have lightened a bit by her question. “I was at the bar all night. Same as you. I noticed—well everyone noticed, your friend passed out, and then I saw Malfoy, and I thought for sure you would go home with him.” 

He fiddled with the spoon in his cup of coffee as if he was nervous. It was almost endearing. “But then you didn’t. There were some strange guys in the corner, honestly not strange—straight perverted and  _ dangerous _ guys in the corner based on the few snippets I overheard.” He turned his gaze up at her to see her expression, but she was back to staring at the countertop, though this time she was pushing her breakfast around with her fork instead of getting lost inside of her cup of coffee.“They made a move to get up like they were going to approach you, but I was a few steps ahead of them. I placed a sticking charm on their chairs and decided that I would rather you get escorted out by me than see you on the front page of the  _ Prophet _ tomorrow, filed as a missing person or something equally awful. I figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” 

Hermione laughed uncomfortably wondering if he really had played the hero or if he was lying to her. “So, let me get this straight: My friend passed out and you saw I didn’t leave but because there were creepy wizards in the corner you decided to force me to go home... and then followed me in?” Her brows raised as she speared a bit of egg on the end of her fork, taking a tentative bite as he laughed nervously. 

“Okay, okay. I see how it looks. The truth is, I saw you from behind when you first came in and thought that you were fit. When you turned around and I recognized your eyes before anything else. The last time I saw those eyes I was trying to harm you. I couldn’t walk away knowing this time I could help you. I didn’t even think twice about it. But I couldn’t help but watch you. You're bloody gorgeous, Hermione. You know that.” 

Between the way he was looking at her and the words falling from his lips, a rush of blood settled beneath her cheeks, turning them crimson as she squirmed a bit in her seat. “ _ Not _ helping, Finn.” 

The intensity of his gaze forced Hermione to avert her own eyes. “When I saw those guys looking at you like you were a piece of meat, I didn’t want you to get hurt. This was the best way I knew how. It’s not like you would have believed me if I walked up to you and said, ‘ _ oh hey _ ,  _ those guys over there are probably going to rape you, you should go’ _ .” 

Hermione bit her thumbnail, the black nail polished chipped as she considered his words. No, she wouldn’t have believed him, some random stranger, no matter how gorgeous, and especially not in the state she was in last night. She likely would have pushed him off and told him she could handle herself. “Alright, then. Thank you. Thank you for being creepy and not taking advantage of my drunk alter ego.” 

Finn smirked, “You have a drunk alter ego?” From the way his lips pinched together at the sides, it was clear he was holding back a laugh. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, “It’s really a long story.” 

Finn leaned back against the counter behind him and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ve got all morning, princess.” 

She didn’t necessarily want to explain, but she didn’t exactly want to send him on his way either. She could have tried to change the subject but there was something about the curve of his brow and the glint in his eye that told her she wasn’t going to get off so easily. 

Her nose wrinkled and her eyebrows crinkled at the edges when she huffed in irritation.“Fine. When I get drunk, I turn into a different person. When I get really drunk, it’s even worse. Daphne started calling it my alter ego because evidently all semblance of Hermione Jean Granger is gone when I’ve had one too many drinks” 

“Do you get drunk often?” 

“Often enough that my best friend determined I have an alter ego.” 

She rolled her eyes as he lifted a brow at her as if he was demanding her to elaborate further. She huffed in mock annoyance. “My childhood was much more exhilarating than anything I have done as an adult. My friends are all married off or about to be and I have had nothing but terrible one-offs and on the off chance it turned into something more, after a couple of dates I decided that the person was not worth my time.” She took a healthy swig of coffee before continuing on. 

“About a year ago after a horrible breakup with someone else after me only for my fame, Daph and Draco started forcing me to go out on the weekends. Drunken shenanigans began, and Daph decided that when I am drunk, my normal self disappears only to be replaced by a snarky, filterless Hermione that says whatever she is thinking. I try not to let her come out more than once a month, and other than a couple of glasses of wine at dinner a couple of nights a week, I really don’t drink that often. Hence why I have an alter ego.” 

Finn laughed, a deep sound rumbling from his chest that Hermione wanted to wrap herself up in. It made her smile in turn. “Alright, makes sense.” 

They stared at each other long enough for it to become awkward as she pushed her breakfast around on her plate just to have something to do with her hands. 

After what felt like ten minutes of silence, Hermione blurted out, “Why me?” 

Finn nervously rubbed the back of his neck again before picking up the cup of coffee from the counter and taking a sip. His arms came to rest against his abdomen as he held the cup between his large hands. “I don’t know, you’re intelligent, you seem like you like to have fun; it doesn’t hurt that you are dead sexy.” 

He winked at her. Fucking winked at her and it did funny things to her insides and all that bubbled out of her mouth was—

“But you tried to kill me in that little cafe.” 

Finn sighed and shook his head, “And you knocked me on my arse for it. I'll have you know, a number of critical missions just happened to fall apart at the last moment when Antonin and I were involved. Not consistently enough to arouse suspicion but enough to make a difference in the war where we could. I don't know how to prove to you that this—”, he gestured to the faded Dark Mark on his forearm, “—Mark doesn't mean anything. All I have is my word and your gut feeling about me. I can see it in your eyes, you would've hexed me out of your flat if you didn't trust me."

“I’m sure you will think of something,” she prodded. 

Hermione considered herself to be a very forgiving person. One of her best friends had put her through hell during their years at school, but after an apology and a bit of working together in close quarters, she and Draco Malfoy had developed a relationship that nearly rivaled her friendship with Harry. It felt like a lifetime ago that the war happened and she knew that all of the Death Eaters who had truly supported Voldemort were either dead or in Azkaban. Those who hadn’t been sentenced went through at least a year of rehabilitation and frequent check-ins with the Auror department to ensure they were on the straight and narrow. 

When she thought back to everything Finn had shown her over the past twenty minutes of horribly awkward morning-after conversation, she couldn’t help but still feel drawn to him. He was funny and bold and it certainly didn’t hurt that she would like to climb him like a tree. 

_ Six months _ . 

It had been six months since she’d hooked up with anyone, closer to ten months since she’d been in a relationship that lasted longer than two dates, and going on a year since any man had managed to get her off without her own intervention. But Finn was here, in her kitchen,  _ cooking her breakfast _ of all of the insane things. He hadn’t taken advantage of her and she knew if she kicked him out of her apartment it would be a mistake. When added all together, there was something about Finn that made her think he could break her dry spell… and might possibly stick around for a lot longer than that if she was lucky. 

Before he could say anything else, she was off the barstool and toying with the hem of her oversized t-shirt while looking him straight in the eye. Fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her knickers and she shimmied them down her legs with a shift of her hips until they caught on her ankles. Gingerly she removed one foot from them before, she lifted them from the ground with her toes and swiped the scrap of lace with her hand. When she rounded the corner of the kitchen bar, she held her knickers up one finger, watching his eyes widen and follow their path until she dropped them on the ground. She didn’t miss the low rumble coming from his chest before she sauntered into her room, laughing all the way down the hall. 

As she stepped into her ensuite, she pulled her wand from her messy bun and turned the taps of the shower on, smirking as she heard Thorfinn approach. Her hand was gliding through the water, testing the temperature, when he leaned against the doorframe, her discarded knickers dangling from his hand. Her eyes trailed downward because his shirt had ridden up just enough to expose the low-slung denims that left little to her imagination. One thing was certain, there was no way he was that he was wearing pants under said denims.

She bit the corner of her lip. For all the shit he put her through growing up—at the Department of Mysteries, the cafe, and Merlin knew what other battles they’d both been engaged in, he could certainly make it up to her by shagging her brains out.

He held them up to her as though he wanted her to take them back, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. His eyes skimmed her body, pausing at the scar that bisected her chest and a rush of breath left his mouth before Hermione pushed back the curtain and stepped into the shower. 

“Hermione—” 

She wasn’t about to give him a chance to ask about the dark curse scar decorating torso.“Look, either get in and give me a reason to forgive you or fuck off. Your choice.” 

When she heard the rustle of clothes from outside of her shower and a string of muttered curses, she bit her lip and grinned. 

The shower curtain was drawn back and he stepped in, large hand wrapping around her hips from behind and pulling her against him. Her back met his chest and she could feel his growing erection pressing against her arse. 

She twisted in his arms, his hands still staying firmly against her waist as she spun back into the water. Her curly hair lengthening and hanging loose around her face as it grew wet under the spray of the hot water. 

She stepped back to look over his body and his hands almost reluctantly let her go. Strong calves were set below muscular thighs and at the apex of those thighs—she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, as she processed how truly well endowed Finn was. Honestly, she might need a moment. Maybe offer up a prayer to the gods for sending this fine specimen her way. Perhaps she should erect a shrine to— 

Finn’s hand curved around her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. 

“Like what you see,  _ princess _ ?” He drew the word out as his eyes bore into hers, clearly amused by her appraisal of his body. 

The connection between her brain and mouth had clearly short-circuited and rerouted any and all functions to her core. When she pressed her thighs together, she could feel the slick of her arousal between them. “Mhmm” was all she could manage, no matter how many other words she wanted to say.

Placing her hands on his chest, Hermione began tracing small circles over the planes of his pectorals, feeling the hardened muscle beneath the soft skin and coarse, blonde hair. The longer their gaze remained locked, the more dilated his pupils became, and the more her center throbbed. 

Finn’s arms snaked around her body, slow and methodical as it moved across her skin. In one fluid motion, he spun her around so her back was once again pressed to his front. One arm held her firmly, just below her breasts, while the fingers of his other hand rested around her neck, exerting gentle pressure that made her shiver beneath the flow of hot water. “You think you can handle this cock,  _ princess _ ?” 

_ Bloody fuck.  _

Evidently, her previous hook-ups had not prepared her for this wizard. Up until this point her sex life had been satisfying—thank  _ Merlin _ for Neville Longbottom—albeit boring...  _ vanilla _ . She’d read erotica more than once that made her cheeks flush and her cunt clench, but experiencing Finn’s deliberate manipulation of her body and the wicked words he crooned against her ear were a thousand times better than what she could find in any book. She didn’t think she would like being bossed around and manhandled until she felt the telltale gush of arousal coming from her core. 

Hermione’s throat bobbed as she swallowed against his hand, her chest already rising and falling with quick breaths though he’d barely done more than graze her skin with his fingers. 

He chuckled darkly and ground his hips against her, his cock pressing against the curve of her arse. “You like my hand around your throat, princess? Just a little tighter and you would see stars when I make you come.” He flexed his fingers just a bit and Hermione moaned, suddenly desperate to see those fireworks burst behind her eyelids. 

Finn removed the arm from under her breasts and grabbed his cock. He pulled his hand over it and rubbed it along the crevice of her arse and back to let it rest against her bum. 

His hands traveled across her body once again, sliding across her body and he turned her once to face him and moved her against the tiled wall of the shower. Her eyes flew open and she gasped when she made contact with the cool tiles as he lifted her with ease. Blue eyes were darkened and the way his stare bore into hers, full of fire and  _ need,  _ made Hermione rock her hips forward and pull his face to hers until their mouths met with bruising force. 

His kiss was hot and demanding and sent jolts of lightning throughout her body, the bright bolts zipping over each nerve ending until she was desperate to have him buried within her. As if he were teasing her, every so often his hips would grind forward so his cock would slide along her slick sex.

His lips trailed a line of fire across her cheek to begin his assault on her neck, kissing down her throat and jaw. When she moved her hand between their bodies to grasp his cock in an attempt to position him at her entrance, he swatted her away and he circled his hips against hers, each movement forcing his length to bump her clit, sending shockwaves through her. 

But it wasn’t enough. She needed him inside of her.  _ Now _ . 

Her nails dug into the defined muscles on his shoulder, leaving half-moon indentations on his skin as he left love bites down her neck. She whimpered when his teeth sunk into the taut muscle connecting her neck to her shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to tread the fine line between pain and pleasure.

“ _ Merlin _ , stop teasing, and fuck me.” 

He laughed against her skin, lips caressing the bite mark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “Oh, I don’t think so princess. I have a lot to prove here; we are going to do things my way.” 

When he gently placed her down to the floor, she whined as he reached behind her to grab her shampoo. With a smug smirk on his face, he clicked open the bottle, squirting some into the palm of his hand and began lathering the solution into her wet curls as she pouted. 

Her eyes lifted in confusion at the loss of him. They had been so close and now he was what? Washing her hair? “What are you doing?” 

He turned her around by her shoulders, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with blunted nails, causing her to moan quietly as she relaxed into the sensation. She could hear the smugness in his voice when he bent down near her ear and quietly said, “I can’t prove anything to you with sloppy shower sex, so we are going to get clean in here right now, so I can get you dirty again out there, where I can show you that I am not the man I was fifteen years ago.” 

This man meant business and if letting him wash her hair would lead to mind-blowing sex, she was okay with that, even if she was just a bit impatient. 

He turned her back around to face him while he rinsed the shampoo out of her curls before placing a gentle kiss against her lips. It was sweet and in such contrast to their passion-filled kiss earlier that it almost threw her off-kilter. While her core was still throbbing and protesting that she needed it  _ now, _ Hermione was at a loss for words, and all she could do was nod. 

When he pulled his fingers from her curls, Hermione quickly bent down to retrieve the soap bottle on the floor. She squirted a healthy amount into the palm of her hand and met Finn’s eyes when her hand wrapped around his length and began stroking. 

A sharp hiss escaped between his teeth and his head fell back with a groan. 

His hand curled around her throat, thumb pressing lightly against the hollow and he looked down at her again, “Fuck, princess. You have no idea the things I want to do to you right now.” 

“Then do them already.” 

After some more teasing in the shower until the water began to run cold they exited the shower, though Hermione’s desire had only grown hotter.

Finn stepped out first and held a towel out for Hermione after he had wrapped his own around his waist. She stepped into it and he wrapped it around her and lifted her over his shoulder like he had done the night before, taking her back into her room. 

She laughed as he dropped her onto the center of the bed, pulling her body immediately to the edge as the towel dropped away.

He began kissing his way down her body, seemingly savoring every inch of it along the way as his lips trailed over her breasts, pausing to nip and lick at her nipples. The dotted kisses over her abdomen coupled with the cool air hitting the water droplets on her skin, caused gooseflesh to erupt over her body and she shivered.

She whimpered as he flicked the towel clinging to his body, exposing him and all his glory to her and placed his hands on her inner thighs and spread her open. She sucked in a breath when she felt his eyes lingering over her sex before he moved his hands and sucked love bites into her thighs, making her squirm, her hips shifting in an attempt to get him where she really wanted him. 

She groaned when he pulled away, “Now,  _ princess _ , if you can’t be patient, I am going to have to hold you down or punish you.” The threat was clear in his voice, low and dangerous, and she knew he would do just that if she didn’t behave. Somehow, just knowing that she was at his mercy sent a new trickle of wetness to her aching cunt. 

He pressed kisses over the jut of her hip bones as his hands caressed her calves before sliding up her legs. Thick fingers parted her folds and all of the air left her body as his lips made contact with her slit.

He moaned against her while he tasted her as if savoring every last bit of her essence against his tongue. “You taste so fucking good.” 

A tingle crept up her spine the second his mouth ghosted over her clit causing her to gasp for breath. He laughed against her sex and pressed the flat of his tongue along her seam, drawing it up until the tip, once again, flicked her clit. The pressure was perfect as if he’d known her body for weeks not hours and he hit it again and again, sending her rapidly spiraling upwards towards her peak.

She grasped the bedspread on either side of her and arched her back as he brought her right to the edge with each flick and swipe of his tongue. 

She screamed in frustration as he pulled away and her cunt clenched at nothing, desperately seeking the friction it needed to push Hermione over the edge and into oblivion. She pushed herself up and balanced on her forearms and glared up at him as he languidly stroked his hand over his cock.

If her wand wasn’t in the bathroom, she’d wipe the damn smirk off of his face with a well-placed hex. “Why the fuck did you stop?” 

He barked out a laugh, seemingly amused at her frustrated state. “You’ll thank me later.” 

“I thought this was about proving to me what a good man you are; starving me of an orgasm certainly doesn’t help your cause.” 

He was still smirking, the bastard, when he leaned over her body and took one of her nipples between his teeth. His lips wrapped around the taut bud and he pulled back, releasing it with a pop. “Trust me.” 

Words didn’t have a chance to leave her mouth as he grasped her legs and spread her open. The head of his cock rubbed along her slit, spreading her slick over his length. Each stroke sent a pulse of pleasure through her as he took his time, causing her stomach to clench with need. When she finally felt him nudge her entrance, she was a mess below him from the anticipation of  _ finally  _ being filled. 

He pressed into her with one solid motion, only stopping when their hips pressed together and Hermione felt nearly delirious from her walls stretching around him as he filled her. Catching himself on his arms so as not to crush her completely, Finn collapsed against her chest, his chest heaving with each rapidly drawn breath. “Merlin Hermione, you are so bloody tight.” 

He slowly retracted and gently filled her again, moaning in tandem as her cunt stretched and spasmed around him, sensitive and swollen from being pushed to the edge. 

Her fingers wound around Finn’s arms, tightening as she met each thrust with breathless abandon, each slow snap of his hips sparked places within her she could never reach on her own. 

“ _ Fuck.” _

“My, my, what a filthy little mouth we have.” He punctuated his statement with a forceful thrust and Hermione knew that there was no way sex had ever felt this good. She couldn’t form words, only whimpers and moans escaped her lips, she was so lost to the sensations this man was inflicting upon her body. It simultaneously felt as if her magic would detonate around them in an uncontrolled burst and that she could conjure a million patronuses without needing a happy memory.

He brought his thumb down to rub gentle circles over her clit, each stroke winding her body tighter until she was ready to burst. Her breath came in short pants and opened her eyes and locked gazes with Finn. A thin sheen of sweat coated his body and his blond hair was wet and disheveled, falling from the bun he’d worn in it. He was just at the edge of losing control and it made her feel powerful, that sex with this beautiful man could render him into something so imperfect and needy and in sync with her own desires.

Just as she was about to fall over the edge again, he stopped again and she growled.

He ignored her protests and pulled out of her completely, his eyes perusing her naked and aroused body. She felt beautiful like this—wild, wet curls fanned out around her head, her body slicked with sweat, and her cheeks flushed with arousal.

He nudged her hips over, motioning for her to get on all fours before kneeling on the bed behind her as she shifted onto her hands and knees. Her back arched and he pressed into her once more until he bottomed out within her. The new angle sent him slamming into her cervix and the mix of pain and pleasure brought her to new heights. 

It was impossible to keep track of how many times he pushed her to the edge and then backed off when one of his hands was curling around her shoulder and the other was gripping her hip so tightly she was certain it would bruise. 

She knew her moans were only growing louder with each hard thrust, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care as she clutched the bedspread beneath her, causing the stitching to pop under the tension. 

Just a few more thrusts and she would be there. 

The hand grasping her shoulder suddenly moved beneath her body, seeking out her pussy and his thumb flicked over her sensitive and swollen nub, sending her over the edge with a wail. Warmth bloomed outward from her core and her hands and feet felt numb as her body shook from the force of the orgasm that washed over her. Soft moans fell from her lips as he fucked her through it, her cunt gripping his cock as though it intended to lock him inside of her. It wasn’t until her body settled and the tingle of a cleansing charm washed over her back that she even realized he finished and had come on her back. 

He fell down on the bed next to her where she collapsed face down, both of them short of breath and gasping for air. An arm snaked around her and she felt the gentle press of his lips against her curls. 

She opened one eye, almost scared to look at the smug expression on his face that she just knew would be there, but to her surprise, he simply looked sated and well-shagged, much like she must. 

When she did finally meet his eyes, the smug smirk returned to its rightful place on his lips, though his hand rubbed soothing circles over the line of her back. “Circe’s tit, that was amazing. I could marry you right now.” 

Hermione laughed and turned on her side to face him. “I don’t marry guys I bring home from the bar.” 

He grinned.“Then I guess I’ll just have to date you first,” he laughed, still breathless. “Though I feel inclined to point out that I was the one who brought  _ you home _ and not the other way around.” He leaned in and brushed a gentle kiss against her lips that left her wanting more—more kisses, more sex, just more of  _ him. _ “Come to dinner with me tonight?”

She raised a brow, “Tonight?” 

He tucked a damp curl behind her ear and, despite everything they’d just finished, she blushed at the intimate gesture. “Yes tonight, I’ve already proven what a generous lover I am, but now I need to prove that I am, in fact, a gentleman.” 

“Not to mention humble,” she added with a smile. 

He stood up, reaching out a hand to pull her to stand with him. When she did, his hands encircled her waist and his forehead dropped against hers. “I’m not above begging. I won’t leave you alone until you go with me. Consider it repayment for taking care of you last night.” 

She pulled back and tilted her head from side to side, overplaying how much she was thinking about it, keeping her face carefully neutral, no matter how much she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and give him an emphatic “yes.” 

“I suppose I can clear my schedule.” She smirked, untangling herself from his arms and sauntering over to her closet, purposefully putting a bit more sway into her hips.

He pulled his jeans on and entered her closet behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist once more as she pulled a shirt off of a hanger. “Maybe you can be sober tonight, and we could do what we should have done last night,” Finn teased as he bent down and nibbled at her earlobe, sending tingles down her spine. 

“I guess we'll just have to see, won’t we?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this chapter is NSFW. Just assume unless otherwise noted that no chapter is safe. Did we mention this isn't exactly a slow-burn? Lol. Hope you enjoy! (P.S. This is one of Lyra's favorite chapters because _ahem_ a particular scene was super fun to write.)

Hermione squeezed, tucked, and shimmied into the obscenely short, neon pink body-con dress Finn insisted she wear. She had purposely shoved it to the back of her closet, swearing she’d never wear it again after that Halloween two years, eight kilos, and a regular exercise routine ago. 

Hot pink was not acceptable for a date—especially not hot pink, short, _and_ tight. Hermione was not a Barbie doll, thank you very much. 

Were it not for the fact that the glint in Finn’s eye promised all manner of delicious and depraved things, she would have shoved the neon monstrosity back into her closet and picked out something less form-fitting. Instead, she charmed the garment black and dug a pair of heels out of her closet. 

A knock sounded at five o’clock. She grabbed her coat, slipped her feet into the black heels, and carefully made her way down the hall to answer the door. The last thing she needed was to twist her ankle and land face-first on the hardwood.

Her fingers slid the lock back and turned the knob coming face to face with a giant bouquet of flowers in a myriad of colors, her blond giant grinning at her from behind the arrangement. 

Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock as she took the bouquet from his hands, her coat draped over her arm, dropping to the floor in the process. She pressed her nose against a fragrant moonflower, inhaling the intoxicating aroma. She assumed it was charmed to remain in bloom despite the daylight that flooded her flat, considering how wide the petals were spread. She peeked up at Finn from behind the bouquet.“I thought I told you to just use the floo.” 

Finn smirked, “And I thought I told you to wear that pink dress. I liked that one.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, spinning in a slow circle, flowers tucked against her bust. “Same length, same fit, just a different color.” 

Finn wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her towards him so her back pressed against his front. When he leaned down, his breath tickled her ear as his hands settled over the curve of her hips. 

“As sexy as you are in it, I can’t wait to get you out of it.” The dark, husky tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine as his breath caressed her ear. She felt the arousal pooling low in her belly and rubbed her thighs together to ease the ache. If he kept touching her and whispering in her ear, she would need a new dress. It wasn’t like she was about to tell him she wasn’t wearing any knickers. That was a surprise she was saving for later. 

She reluctantly peeled herself away from his hold but rose to her toes to kiss his cheek. Glancing up at him through her lashes, a sweet smile sliding across her coloured lips, “Thank you for the flowers.” 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess—” Hermione would never tell him, but that silly nickname was starting to grow on her. “—or we won’t ever get out of here. Go put those in a vase so we can go to dinner and hurry back.” 

“Did you dig through all of my cabinets this morning? How do you know I even have a vase?”

Finn shrugged, the lopsided grin he sported just served to make Hermione want to toss the flowers over her shoulder and drag him by the collar to her bed. “Took a few tries to locate a sautée pan.” 

She winked over her shoulder and giggled at the low rumble that left his chest when she turned and sauntered back into her sitting room. It may or may not have had something to do with the bit of extra sway she’d put into her hips. There was something immensely pleasing about how she was able to affect that mountain of a man in ways she’d rarely managed with others. She just needed to keep her wits about her, because Hermione was quickly finding that Thorfinn Rowle was going to be the death of her. 

She filled the vase with water and took care to arrange the flowers, using the time to take a few deep breaths so her cheeks wouldn’t be quite so flushed when she came face to face with him again. 

It was sinful how good he looked in that tailored navy suit. The jacket hugged his shoulders and back, showcasing the way the thick muscles rippled with each fine movement while the buttons of the crisp white shirt below begged to be popped free. The tailored lines of the waistcoat alone was enough to make her melt into a Hermione shaped puddle but it was the trousers that really did her in. They clung to his muscular thighs and practically cupped his arse and of course, since she knew exactly what she was looking for, they left little to the imagination about that shrine-worthy piece of equipment hidden just below the expensive fabric. 

She couldn’t help herself when she turned back around to where he was waiting for her just inside the doorway. She drew her eyes over his body and hummed appreciatively.

Finn leveled his gaze on her and drew up to his full height, his hands very firmly tucked into the pockets of his trousers. “I’m only going to tell you one more time. Do _not_ look at me like that or we will never get out of here. I’m already having a hard time keeping my hands to myself, as it is.

Hermione glanced up at him and nodded, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Honestly, staying in didn’t seem like such a horrible idea… not if she could get him out of those trousers. 

Finn averted his eyes with a noticeable groan and gestured towards the open door. “Let’s go, princess.” 

* * *

When they arrived at the restaurant, they were seated at a large U-shaped booth in the back. The din of conversation on the main floor and the sounds of cutlery scraping against china immediately disappeared. Hermione glanced around with curiosity regarding the spellwork surrounding them, just as Finn pulled her body closer to him. His arm settled around her shoulder, and she tucked herself against his side, letting her fingers marvel over the delicate embroidery on the waistcoat. 

“Each booth is equipped with a barrage of privacy charms. I imagine your eye was drawn away from the booths until the hostess approached this one and if you try to focus on one of the other booths around the edge, the magic will firmly persuade you not to. It’s a bit ingenious, really—allowing everyone to talk about whatever they please without being overheard.” 

“Very clever.” 

When the server came to take their order, Finn took control, ordering an appetizer and a few entrees to be served family-style. Normally, Hermione would have thrown a fit about someone ordering for her, but there was just something about this man that made it nearly impossible for her to be anything other than be smitten. It was almost as if she was a fourth-year again, pining after a boy she couldn’t have… only she could absolutely have this one. And she had—multiple times. 

Conversation between them flowed easily as if they had known one another for much longer than twenty-four hours. Even when their food arrived, the stories and laughter continued to flow as they learned things that they hadn’t had time to learn in between shagging and napping intermittently over the past morning and afternoon.

Hermione learned that Finn’s sister had passed away in a tragic accident, leaving him the sole heir in his family. His father was in Azkaban for life and not expected to live longer than the next few months. Perhaps the most tragic of it all was that his mother, whom he’d spared by taking the mark, had taken her own life shortly after he was marked, unable to bear that all-consuming depression that she’d struggled with for many years. She could see how difficult it was for him to speak about his family, his eyes dimmed and he held her hand just a little too tightly. When she told him about how she’d _Obliviated_ her parents and sent them to Australia, only to be killed by a drunk driver after two weeks, Finn held her close to him and wiped away the stray tears that fell, no matter how hard she tried to hold them back. After several moments of leaning on each other for comfort, Finn pulled away and placed a gentle kiss against her forehead. 

“Okay enough sad things. I wanted to ask you a few questions.” He pushed the dishes towards the edge of the table, and glanced down at Hermione, a soft smile playing over his lips as his fingers stroked the bare skin of her arm. “Did you want dessert?” 

Did he mean actual dessert or… _dessert_? “I mean… I wouldn’t say no.”

When the server cleared the plates with a wave of her wand, Finn ordered them a butter cake to share, before he gave her sheepish smile. “Sorry, is that okay with you? I love dessert, it’s honestly the only reason I go out to dinner.” 

She grinned, her fingers twisting together in her lap so she wasn’t tempted to fiddle with the buttons on his waistcoat. “Perfectly fine. What did you want to ask me about?” 

The corners of his mouth titled further until he was smirking at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat. “About your sex life. Previous partners, things you have tried, things you liked—” his eyebrows raised and a blush coloured her cheeks, “—things you didn’t.”

Hermione was somewhat caught off guard. Despite all of the shagging they’d done earlier, she hadn’t expected Finn to ask her about _that_. Most men never seemed to even want to entertain the idea that someone had been there before them, let alone outright ask about it. “Why do you want to know those things on the first date?” 

“Oh, we are well past the first date formalities, love.” _Sweet Circe,_ she shouldn’t be so affected by one single four-letter-word, but here she was with her heart in her throat and the throbbing in between her thighs was threatening to make a mess of this booth. “I just want to know your preferences and anything you dislike. I like sex, and I really like sex with you so I want to know. Call it a bit of research, if you must.”   
  
“You mean this morning and this afternoon wasn’t enough for you to learn all of my secrets?” 

“I may be a quick study, princess, but even you know there are many sides to each scrap of evidence.” _Gods,_ did he have to be good-looking and intelligent? She would’ve settled for the former but the latter was like the day her twelve-year-old self found out that unicorns were not the stuff of legends. 

“Partners, though?” She bit the corner of her bottom lip, afraid to admit some of her past trysts that were absolutely mistakes— _ahem_ Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, _hello_. 

“Anyone I know?” 

Everything felt too warm and it was like there was a tiny mandrake in her stomach, twisting about and ready to paralyze her if she plucked at it too much. “Oh Merlin, really do you need to know this?” 

“Hiding something, princess?” His brow was raised and that damnable smirk was still plastered across his lips and there was something about the glint in his eye that made her _want_ to tell him everything… no matter how embarrassing it was. There was a mirth in his gaze that made her feel like if she chose to _not_ tell him, he would bend her over his knee right there in the booth and spank the truth out of her. Though, now that she thought about it, that might be fun.

She pulled her eyes away from him and watched as her fingers twisted into the linen serviette in her lap. “Fine. Seventh year during the war, Harry and I...” she hesitated, letting out an exasperated breath. Gods, she’d never told anyone about her past sexual experiences and it was harder to say than she thought it would be. “We had a friends-with-benefits type thing, but after the war realized that was totally stupid and we should never do that again. Something similar happened with Draco. I thought I loved him, and it was just so awkward.” She paused, pursing her lips before glancing up at him expecting another smirk as if he were comparing his own performance to those of the men she’d been with in the past, only to find him listening attentively without any trace of smugness on his face. It helped to set her at ease. “I shouldn’t tell you more, he would be mortified if anyone knew.” 

“Tell me, love. I want to know.” 

She shook her head laughing nervously again, “We, um… well. We kept fumbling awkwardly and he kept going—” she lowered her voice, “—soft. We were drunk at the time and we just decided that it was a sign to stop anything before it even had a chance to begin. He’s still my closest friend, but we never, _ever_ talk about that night. It’s too weird.” 

“What about the redhead? Weasley, was it?” 

She was grateful he didn’t question her too much about Draco and kept the conversation moving, though she wasn’t sure talking about her sex life—rather non-existent sex life, with her former fiance was the smartest thing at the moment. “He thought he loved me, I was never convinced, even though I agreed to marry him at one point. It was soon after I discovered I lost my parents and I think I was just clinging to some sense of normalcy, you know? And Ron, well… he was always a constant and it made sense at the time… but we broke up within a few months.” Hermione sighed, pulling her mind back before it could drift to the memories of the wizard who was barely in her life anymore. “We never had sex, just heavy petting.” 

She muttered under her breath, “Terrible heavy petting at that.” 

He laughed behind his drink, his thick fingers holding the glass near his lips. “So you have only ever hooked up with friends, and they were all boring?” 

“No, I have had some one night stands, names, and experiences that weren’t particularly memorable.” 

“So you have only ever hooked up with guys that cared more about themselves than you?” 

She hated to admit it, but he was mostly correct—Harry, Merlin love him, had tried but they couldn’t ever find a good rhythm. “There was only one wizard who I could say with confidence made me... finish.” 

“Spill.” 

He was relentless. Hermione’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “Are you going to tell me the same thing or are you just going to demand to know my entire sexual history and not tell me anything about yours?” 

He knocked back the remainder of his whiskey and winked at her. “We’ll get to me. You first.” 

“Do you remember Neville Longbottom? He was the bloke who lopped the head off of Voldemort’s snake,” She paused looking to Finn for some sign of recognition and when he nodded, she continued. “Well, we hooked up for about a month, nothing serious, very… compatible, but I couldn’t see a future with him. When he met his now fiancé, we stopped.” 

“What kind of things made you feel compatible?” 

She blushed. He’d thoroughly explored nearly every inch of her body over the past twelve hours and she had the audacity to blush. 

“I don’t know!” The words just bubbled up out of her mouth and she covered her face with her hands trying to hide how embarrassed she was about this _particular_ topic of conversation. She may have never told anyone else about her failed sexual escapades with Draco Malfoy, but Neville Longbottom was the only one she had ever discussed… _that_ … with and somehow, telling Finn suddenly felt daunting. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t laugh in her face about her desires, but they had a good thing starting and she didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Did he make you come?” 

She nodded, keeping her face hidden behind her hands.

“Did he fill you _adequately_?” 

Her mouth worked to find the words as she paused but only a small noise of affirmation escaped her lips as she nodded behind her hands, once again. 

“Why are you hiding?” His voice was gentle but curious as he pulled her hands away from her face, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrists and rubbing soothing circles over her pulse point. 

“Because…” Merlin, why did this have to be so hard? “I have never had this conversation before… especially not with a man I’m dating.”

“What kind of things turn you on?” She could tell he wanted her to answer truthfully, but in true embarrassed Hermione fashion, she deflected. 

“You.” 

“That’s a given.” His hand crept up her upper thigh, drawing small circles on the skin just below the hemline of her dress and Hermione had to silently tell herself not to move. He leaned in, nipping her earlobe as his lips vibrated with each spoken syllable sending a shiver along her spine. “What makes your knickers wet, love?” 

His fingers slowly moved under the hemline of her dress and she swallowed hard, eyes darting around the restaurant even though she knew no-one was paying them any mind.

“Couldn’t tell you, I’m not wearing any.” The sound of her voice came out shakier than she would have liked, but it was the moan Finn made against the shell of her ear that made her nearly certain she would soak through the back of this dress before they paid for the check. 

His fingers tightened and gripped her thigh. “Don’t tell me that princess. I’ll sit you on my cock right now.” 

“Dirty talk, like that.” 

“I knew that.” He withdrew his hand and Hermione had to stop herself from pouting until she saw him uncuffing the sleeves of his shirt and rolling them over his thick forearms. “I need to know what else gets you going. How about this, I’m going to say things and you let me know how interested you are in them. Can you do that for me, princess?” 

Her entire body threatened to combust as Finn’s hand settled against her thigh and parted her legs, lifting her knee until one leg rested over his. Were it not for the tablecloth and the privacy spells, her dripping folds would be on display for the entire restaurant to see. 

“Stop me if there is something you don’t like, or aren’t sure about, okay?” Anxiety melted away into pleasure as he slowly stroked along her folds, drawing his finger through the slick wetness coating her sex. 

The butter cake appeared in front of them with an audible pop. She ignored it, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore. 

“Finn—”

“No one can see you, love; the tablecloth is keeping us covered.” Rationally, she knew that was true, but the excitement of being so _exposed_ was unreal. 

She bit her lip and whimpered as he flicked at her clit. “No one can hear you either. Fuck princess, all this talking has you totally drenched.” The lewd sound that came from her cunt as he slipped a finger inside of her made her flush crimson. “Sex in public is obviously fine, what about someone watching us?” 

“Yes,” she whimpered, tucking herself against him and hiding her face even as she pushed her hips against his hand. Hermione Granger had no qualms against taking a man to her bed and letting him do unspeakable things to her, but there was something so incredibly intimate about speaking openly about her desires.

She knew it wasn’t wrong to find pleasure in conventional and more… risky activities, but one just didn’t _talk_ about such things… did they? Admittedly, she’d grown up in a conservative home and, apart from one very awkward conversation about how ‘sex without love is just asking for trouble,’ most of what she’d learned had been from books. 

“Naughty girl.” Why in Merlin’s name did those words have to do something to her? Every single word that came out of his mouth threatened to be her undoing. 

“Stop me if there is something you don’t like. Understand?” His fingers drew slowly along her slick walls, but she still managed a nod. 

“Restraints—rope, handcuffs, spellwork...” She nodded, _fucking_ nodded her head and she heard him swear under his breath as his fingers stroked her, his thumb finding her clit as if he were _rewarding her_ simply for stating her desires. 

“Impact play—spanking, flogging, caning…” his voice trailed off, but she kept her mouth quiet apart from the gentle mewls and whimpers as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. 

“Breathplay— choking, crus—” Hermione shook her head, her voice quiet and needy once she found the words to tell him what she wanted, no matter how red her cheeks felt. “Nothing too extreme, but… I… I liked it when you put your hand on my throat.” 

“Good girl.” 

If he saw the way she visibly swallowed when he uttered those two words, he kept it to himself. Although, with the way her face was tucked against his chest, she wouldn’t have seen the smirk on his lips either way. 

“Anal.” The images playing through her mind were beginning to spin wildly out of control as each scene built on another until she saw herself bent over the table in the restaurant with her hands bound together at the wrists while Finn’s gripped her hips as he pounded into her from behind.

“Double penetration.” His lips pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head in direct opposition to the sinful things his thick fingers were doing to her cunt beneath the table, but still, she didn’t stop him. 

“Threesomes?” 

Hermione moaned. She’d never had one, but she’d fantasized about being with two men or even another woman and a man often enough. “O-only with someone— _fuck_ —I know. No strangers.” 

Finn wound the fingers from his other hand in her hair and tilted her head up so he could nip at the tendon connecting her neck and shoulder. “Merlin, princess. So wet for me.” 

She keened as his fingers curved and stroked the spot inside of her he seemed to be able to find so easily after only one day spent together in bed.

His nose drew along the curve of her cheek until his lips were pressed against her ear once more, his fingers still holding her in place by her hair. “I can’t even think straight, my cock is so hard right now. What about orgasm control?” 

Hermione tried to nod, but tugging against his fingers only seemed to increase his hold on them, and she whimpered a breathy, “Yes”. Circe, she was _so close._

Hermione could hear the smile in his voice as his lips brushed over her ear. The low, dark timbre of his voice seemed to drip with honey as his breath rushed over her flushed skin. “Do you like to be _dominated_ , princess?” 

“Yes, please!” Hermione felt as though she were a cauldron with the fire beneath left burning too hot and too long. She was about to shatter and bubble and make the biggest fucking mess right on the soft leather of the booth in the middle of a restaurant in Wizarding London. Finn’s thick fingers stretched and pressed against her walls, coaxing her closer and closer to that inevitable peak. 

“We need the check.” 

“Finn, please... I need… I… _please.”_ His thumb left her clit, though his fingers continued to move within her and tears nearly fell from her eyes because she was so fucking close and he was slowing down and she just… she needed—

“Oh no, you don’t, princess.” Her eyes flew open as this thumb swiped once more against her clit, but just not enough to _get her there._ “Your pretty little cunt is mine. I control your orgasms now. And I want you desperate and _dripping_ for me by the time we get home.” 

Hermione’s chest was heaving with rapid, unsteady breaths and she could feel the tension within her winding tighter and tighter, and she _begged_ for release. “ _Please…”_

“I’m going to take you to my flat and keep you on edge for hours until I let you come.” It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise and just as she was about to crest, he pulled his fingers away from her fluttering walls and swollen clit leaving her breathless and shaking with need. A breathy whimper was pulled from her throat as her cunt clenched around nothing and her eyes could barely focus from unshed, oversensitive tears clouding her vision as she watched as he sucked his fingers clean of her arousal. 

Finn’s fingers brushed her curls away from her face and swiped beneath her eyes to catch the few tears that had fallen. He pulled her against his chest, muscular arms wrapping tightly around her smaller frame as he alternated between cooing praises against her ear and kissing any centimeter of skin he could reach. 

“You did so well, Hermione. Such a good girl.” 

She moaned out loud and pressed her thighs together beneath the table, seeking _any_ form of relief from the pounding of her blood rushing through her veins. 

“Oh, you like praise, do you?” 

She could hear the smile in his voice as his hand trailed over her back and she bit her lip and nodded. 

The forgotten butter cake was packed to go and Finn whisked her out of the restaurant all the while telling her exactly what he intended to do to her interspersed with praises that turned the apples of her cheeks crimson. 

They barely made it to the apparition point before Finn was biting and sucking pretty purple bruises against her pulse point. He grabbed her wrist and placed her hand over the placket of his trousers and her hand instinctively curled around the rock-solid outline of his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, Hermione?” 

Her cunt was still begging to be filled and she could feel the slickness coating her thighs and if she’d been any further gone, she would’ve drawn the zipper down right then and there in the middle of Diagon Alley. But she wasn’t and she didn’t. She might be desperate for him, but it was only fair that she put him through the same sort of interrogation he had done her. 

She cleared her throat, though she boldly left her hand against the hardness pushing against the fabric of his trousers. “You didn’t tell me about your history and what you like.” 

One of his hands encircled her hip while the other threaded into her curls and he pulled her against him, leaving her hand trapped between their bodies. The intensity of his gaze and the confidence laced through each word he spoke kept her rooted to the spot. “I have slept with a lot of inconsequential women whose names I don’t remember. I never spent more than a week with any of them. None of which knew anything about me or my past. Never took any of them back to my flat. Shared a few of them with Antonin. None of them made me this hard.”

Her mind was whirling, wondering if he would throw her away at the end of the week like these countless nameless women. As if he saw the panic creeping into her eyes at his admission, he feathered a kiss against her forehead and it soothed something within her. “In less than twenty-four hours, you’ve broken through my walls and I have never felt like this for a witch in my entire life. I need you.” 

The implications of what he was saying were terrifying but with the way her body was trembling and how desperate she was for him, she pushed everything related to feelings and the future from her mind. “Then take me home.”


	4. Chapter 4

Side-along apparition was significantly better when wrapped in the arms of a man who was kissing your neck. Even when they landed in the middle of a quiet, dark flat. Finn’s arms tightened around her and his teeth nipped at her pulse point for several moments before he pulled away. While he may have separated himself from her, his hands still lingered at her hips while hers remained draped around his neck. 

“Ant! You home?” he called out, quickly pulling his wand out and sending a few balls of light into the space. Hermione recognized a living room with portraits and paintings lining the walls, but she had little time to survey her surroundings before Finn lifted her up by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder, causing her to squeal with laughter. 

“Why do you keep doing this?” She may have been giggling like a school-girl and kicking her feet, even as she pounded her fists against his back in a bid to get him to put her down. All her wiggling managed to do was ruck her dress up over her hips and bare her arse to the empty flat. Instead of putting her down, he silenced her by sliding a hand up her thigh and sinking his fingers into the warmth of her center. 

“Because you like it so much. And I know you check out my arse while you're back there, princess.” Was there anything this man said that didn’t make her blush? “And judging by how much you liked touching it earlier today, I’d say you like my arse quite a bit. Therefore, putting it in your line of sight keeps you wet for me.” He pressed down against her front wall before withdrawing his fingers, much to Hermione’s frustration. “Gives you less room to defy me like you just love to do.” 

She yelped when the palm of his hand came down upon her bare arse, but her vocal protest shifted to a soft whine when the sting gave way to something altogether too pleasurable. 

With her bottom lip captured between her teeth in a paltry attempt to stifle her giggle, Hermione spanked his arse back. 

“Don’t make me punish you, princess.” He dropped her down on the wide, plush couch and began pulling at his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning his trousers.

Hermione kicked her heels off and sat up to pull her dress off, but Finn captured her wrists in a firm grip “Don’t you dare. I’ve been wanting to fuck you in that dress since I pulled it out of your closet.” 

He transferred both of her wrists to one of his hands and pulled his tie off, wrapping the silk around her wrists several times before he pulled his wand from its holster. Tapping the tip to the silk, a whispered incantation tightened and knotted the tie firmly around her wrists. 

She raised a brow and grinned, holding her wrists in front of her as she tugged against the silk, testing the tension. “Trying to touch all the kinks in one night?” 

He laughed, fingers deftly undoing the buttons down the front of his shirt and waistcoat, shrugging it off and dropping it to the floor. “Just a few of my favorites love. Too tight?” 

She tested the holds on her wrist once more and shook her head, “I don’t think so.” 

“You’ll let me know if it starts to be uncomfortable or if your fingers go numb.” Hermione could tell by his tone and the way his eyes watched her carefully that it wasn’t optional and that her safety came before any pleasure. 

“I’ll let you know.” 

After Finn divested himself of his trousers, Hermione’s eyes fell on the very noticeable bulge straining against his briefs. "See something you want, princess?" Hermione squirmed as she nodded and licked her lips. 

She wasn’t certain she’d seen anything sexier than him, and Merlin if it didn’t send a rush of arousal straight to her core. His hair was down and disheveled from her running her hands through the dark blond locks while his inked forearms betrayed the corded muscle below as they flexed against the rolled sleeves of his shirt which hung open. She wanted to trail her tongue over each and every line of muscle beneath the soft skin of his torso until she came to her favorite organ at the apex of his thighs... Gods, his thighs. She’d never fancied herself turned on by a person’s legs before, but she wanted to write her name in love bites over the thick muscle of his thighs. And his arse… she could write sonnets about the shape and feel of it and it was unreal how much she wanted to sink her teeth into it. 

And the most astounding thing was that this Adonis was completely hers…. for now, anyway. “What if I want to touch you?” 

His mouth curved into a smirk as he shed his shirt. “I’ll untie you later.” 

Hermione’s thighs parted to reveal her slick, pink folds as Finn dropped his pants. A low rumble of appreciation vibrated from his chest as he gripped his cock, red and weeping, and stroked his hand along his length, from base to tip. Hermione’s eyes followed each movement of his hand as she squirmed on the couch, anxious for him to touch her. One of his knees pressed against the thick cushion of the sofa as he knelt between her legs, keeping her thighs spread wide and open when the front of his thigh met the back of hers. 

“So pretty,” he murmured, reaching for her so his fingers just brushed over the softness of her thighs. Two fingers gently parted her folds as his other hand fisted the base of his cock, gliding through the slick warmth with teasing strokes.

He leaned over, releasing his cock to balance on one hand, though his fingers continued to tease her center. Hermione’s back arched as his body covered hers, and when his fingers dragged up her body and away from where she so desperately wanted them, she quietly pouted. The sight of her frustration caused Finn to chuckle as he tugged her bound arms above her head with a single hand and began to kiss his way down her still clothed body, starting with a chaste, sweet peck to her lips. She wanted to grab him and hold him there until he was licking into her mouth and kissing her hard, but Finn apparently had other ideas when his teeth teased the swell of her breast. Securing her bound hands above her head in one of his, Finn's fingers skated down the planes of her body until they barely brushed over her clit a single time, just enough to make her squirm. 

He sat back, leaving her bound hands crossed at the wrist above her head and rucked the short dress up further over her hips until it pooled around her waist. Large hands drew down her thighs and up again until Thorfinn parted her slit with his thumbs and openly admired her cunt.

“Please…” It came out as a breathy whimper, desperate for more than these teasing, gentle touches. She was still sensitive and soaked and swollen from the way he’d fingered her in the restaurant and she needed that release like she needed air to breathe. 

He tutted softly, his left hand leaving her to draw long strokes along his cock once more while the other continued to tease her with featherlight touches as he shifted backward along the couch. “Patience, princess.”

She bit her bottom lip and suppressed a whimper, her fingernails digging into her palms as she slowly worked the tie loose, desperate to bury her fingers in his hair. 

He bent down, hot breath ghosting over her center and Hermione nearly came off of the couch when he licked a long stripe through her folds, only to dip his tongue into her cunt. She could see the smile in his eyes as she watched him with parted lips and desperation in her eyes. 

“I’ll never get tired of tasting you. So fucking delicious.” Two fingers slipped easily within her as he sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling the taut button against his tongue and pulling loud moans and unintelligible syllables from her throat. 

With just a few flicks from his tongue and thrusts from his fingers, she was already nearing the top of the peak he’d left on her when he edged her in the restaurant. Part of her wanted him to keep his promise to edge her for an hour, finding a thrill in the feel of the mounting pleasure only to be denied later, while another thoroughly desperate part of her needed to come now. 

She bit her lip trying to stifle her sounds of pleasure when he deftly stroked that spot deep within her that her fingers could never quite reach and the same one that made her see starbursts behind her eyelids. Finn reached up and pulled her lip from her teeth with his thumb, coating her bottom lip in her own arousal, “Let me hear you, love. We have silencing charms on the flat. No one can hear you but me.” 

Hermione managed to slip one hand from its tie binding as he sucked her clit into his mouth. Her fingers slipped into Finn’s hair as her hips canted upward, pressing his mouth firmly against her cunt. He pulled away slightly and laughed, though his fingers continued to stroke in and out in lazily. “I thought I told you I would untie you later.” 

“Fuck later.” 

“Are you trying to earn a punishment before we’ve barely begun?” His tongue darted out to tease her clit and her hand tightened in his hair, trying to move him where she wanted him. 

He didn’t move where she wanted him. 

“N-no… I just… I need—” Reaching to the back of his head, Finn grasped her wrist and untangled her fingers from his hair and pressed a kiss to her palm before releasing her hand and wrapping his arms under her and pulling her against his chest.

“I know what you need, princess.” His lips found hers as he pulled her stand. “I want to do something we haven’t done yet.” 

Before she could question him, she found herself being lifted. Her arms flew around his neck, the tie still dangling from one of her wrists, and her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked them until her back pressed against a nearby wall. It seemed to take him almost no effort as he held her up, pressing kisses against his neck, the line of her jaw, and the helix of her ear. 

Both groaned as he coated his cock in her essence before she felt him knotch the head of his cock at her entrance. Slowly he pushed upwards, fully seating himself within her. Finn was right, this new position was exactly what she needed. 

Her hands buried in his hair as their mouths met. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against hers as he took her against the wall. Hermione babbled his name in their kiss while he uttered filthy words against hers, both missing the tell-tale crack of apparition. 

“For fuck’s sake.” The sound of the accented tenor drew Hermione out of her reverie and she squeaked as Finn’s thumb found her clit. Her head fell back against the wall, eyes fluttering behind closed lids and she moaned, just barely registering that Finn invited Antonin to join in or to bugger off through the rush of blood filling her ears. Her eyes opened and her gaze met eyes so dark they reminded her of melted chocolate. The cloud of lust she saw within was enough to push her over the edge. 

Pleasure bloomed outward from her core as her walls clamped down on Finn’s cock, each drag drawing out her pleasure. Her nails dug into his back, leaving thin red lines as her mouth parted and she screamed, the wave of pleasure cresting and ebbing and flowing through her like water from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She felt numb and heavy and so fucking perfect as Finn fucked her through each little burst and aftershock while his roommate watched. 

Finn kissed her neck, “I didn’t say you could come, princess. You owe me now.” 

She whimpered, eyes still closed as he chased his own pleasure, the vague sound of receding footsteps mingling with the grunts and groans rumbling up from Thorfinn’s chest. She honestly didn’t know how he was still talking, but each stroke was stoking the over-sensitive embers of arousal within her and soon, it would turn into a full-blown fire, licking up her spine and coursing over her body until she was desperate for release once again.

His hand grasped arse, fingers digging into the flesh and forcing a whimper from her throat. “I’ll just spank you later. You’ll look so fucking pretty with your arse turned bright red and begging to come.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, the warmth of his breath sending tingles down her spine. “You came because he was watching, huh princess?” 

Hermione was nervous to answer. She didn’t want to admit that another man watching them sent her over the edge, even if that was exactly what happened. 

“It’s okay if it is.” Her eyes fluttered open to see that Antonin was gone and she caught the sincerity in Finn’s bright blue gaze. “Antonin and I have shared before. I wouldn’t mind sharing you if that’s what you want.” His lips trailed over her forehead as he panted, his thrusts becoming shorter and faster until his forehead came to rest against her own.

Hermione felt another rush of arousal as the mere thought of being fucked by the pair of them at the same time. Earlier, she said only if she knew the person first, but fuck if the thought didn’t turn her on. 

“Merlin, you are so wet,” He growled, his voice uneven with his own impending climax. “Do you want that, love? Me to share you?” 

Hermione nodded, her breaths coming in short pants as he pushed her closer to a second orgasm. The wet sounds coming from her cunt bordered on obscene with each slap of his hips against hers and she almost felt ashamed at how wanton it made her,  _ Almost _ . “Yes!”

She couldn’t tell if it was her admission that she wanted both Finn and his roommate or something else, but he moaned loudly and buried his face against her shoulder. “Gods Hermione, you are so fucking sexy. Fuck, are you on the potion?” 

Potion? Why the fuck was he asking about—Oh. They’d used contraceptive charms every other time and both of their wands were nowhere close. It’s not like it mattered, anyway. 

She shook her head, her legs tightening around his waist. “No, just come in me.” She felt him shake his head and she whimpered at the loss as Finn slid out of her, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock as his sticky seed coated his hand and her dress. 

They were both breathing hard as his forehead pressed against hers, her legs and arms still wrapped around him and her back pressed against the wall. “Look, Princess, I know I said I would marry you earlier, but I don’t need any sprogs just yet.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, slowly lowering her legs to the ground with a wince before she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “You are so dramatic, Finn.”

…….

Finn took her into his room and kissed, licked, and fucked her six ways from Sunday. He fully delivered on the promised spanking and kept her on edge for what certainly felt like an hour, and by the time she and Finn finally collapsed into bed to sleep at three in the morning, she was thoroughly exhausted, sore, and sated. It wouldn’t be at all a surprise if she woke up covered in bruises and if her cunt decided to seal itself shut for a week after all of the sex she and Finn had had over the past twenty-four hours. 

When she did finally wake up, several hours later, she was comfortably tucked in Finn’s arms, her head resting on his chest and one leg draped over one of his much larger ones. She moved carefully, trying not to wake him as she extricated herself from his arms. Hermione looked up at the man in awe, finding him sexy even in his sleep with his hair fanned out around his head, and his mouth parted. He looked at least as well fucked as she probably did. 

She carefully lifted her leg off of him and slid into his shirt which had been deposited in a neat pile on a chair in the corner of his bedroom along with her dress thanks to her forethought earlier. Haphazardly buttoning two of the buttons, not really caring which buttonhole they ended up in and rolling the sleeve of the left arm so it didn’t have several inches past her hand before taking one last look at her sleeping lover, Hermione carefully exited the bedroom to cross the hall to the restroom. 

Just as she lightly shut the door to Finn’s room and turned, the bathroom door opened and Antonin, freshly showered and adorned in only a small towel wrapped around his waist, emerged from the shower. The steam swirled through the air behind him and floated into the hall like creeping tendrils as they stood staring at each one another for just a moment. 

His short hair was still wet, carelessly standing up in multiple directions, nothing like the glimpse of the well-styled coif she briefly recalled from their earlier— _ ahem— _ encounter. She didn’t get a good look at his face, only barely registering that he was at least as attractive as her blond behemoth as her attention was drawn to his left forearm which was covered in black tattoos that she was unable to decipher at her quick glance. It struck her with an odd curiosity that Finn would choose to cover his Dark Mark with brilliant patterns and colorful flowers while Antonin almost tried to hide his amongst something almost stark and angular. 

The corner of his lips lifted in a smirk as his brow raised, the finely boned hands grasping the edges of the towel around his waist to keep it in place. “Enjoy yourself last night?” 

Hermione’s eyes snapped up and even though she knew she probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights, she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t do this now. Her bladder was screaming for its own release and she was seconds away succumbing to its will. So, she shrugged her shoulders and brushed past him quickly until she was able to close the bathroom door with a soft snick. She rested her back against it, mouthing ‘holy fuck’ as she clenched her tender thighs together. How was it possible that they were both this attractive? 

Before she returned to Finn’s room, she decided it was best to go ahead and shower away the sticky residue clinging to her skin and the grime from all of the sweat and sex. Cleansing charms were only so effective and truth be told left her feeling not quite as clean as a proper shower could. Try as she might, she’d never forget those months of being on the run with nothing but cleansing charms and cold water to clean up with.

She discarded Finn’s shirt on the counter and adjusted the dials until the water was nice and hot before stepping in and letting the warmth of it soothe her aching muscles. Just as she was shampooing her hair, she heard the door click open and close, the obvious sound of someone relieving themself, then the shower curtain flew open. She rushed to cover herself, albeit poorly, with only the washcloth and her arm to hide behind. 

Finn chuckled at her attempt at modesty and she let her hands drop as he stepped in behind her, adjusting the spray from the showerhead to hit him as well, “Just me, princess. Though maybe I should call Ant in, eh?” Finn wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled his nose against the love bitten bruised skin of her shoulder. “Might be kind of tight with three people, but I am sure we could make it work. Enlargement charms and all that.” 

She glared at him from over her shoulder, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?” 

“Are you?” he teased, threading his fingers into her hair to massage the shampoo against her scalp. “If I remember correctly, you are the one that got off to it.” 

She turned quickly and slapped his chest with the washcloth, his arms coming up around her and caging her in as his palms pressed against the wall. “Would you shut up? What if he hears you!” 

Finn only laughed and pushed his fingers back through her sodden curls to finish shampooing her hair. “So, what if he does? He knows you came, princess, you weren’t exactly quiet about it. He’ll know you want it when I ask him to join us tonight.” 

Hermione’s hands settled against Finn’s chest, seemingly of their own accord, and the tips of her fingers drummed over the taught muscle beneath. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have him join them, especially because of what she’d seen during that brief encounter in the hall, but she was too sore for anything else, especially inviting a third into their bed. “Not tonight. And you said it yourself—you need time too.” 

“I slept. I’m good.” His shoulders shrugged and he pressed her shoulders to turn her back around so she could wash the shampoo from her hair before adjusting the showerhead so the water would cover her more directly. She dipped her head under the hot stream of water and felt his hands at her waist as the shampoo was rinsed from her hair. Finn pushed forward a bit, poking her bum with the tip of his erection. 

“Don’t you dare poke me with that thing. I need a break.” Just taking a step forward to reach the conditioner made the muscles of her thighs and abdomen ache. 

“But he likes you.” His voice was light and teasing as Hermione felt the head of his cock gliding over the skin of her arse.

“He can like your hand because it’s not happening.” She finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair and pulled open the curtain, stealing his towel from the rack and wrapping it around her body after stepping out of the tub.

“Don’t be cross,” he teased with a smile. “You were much nicer yesterday when you were hungover.” He didn’t bother closing the curtain as he grabbed the bar of soap and rubbed it over his skin quickly while Hermione dried herself with the towel. The scent of his soap and lingering steam was clouding her mind, luring her arousal to the surface, but the ripple of aching muscles reminded her that she was no shape for shagging right now. 

She just grumbled under her breath. 

“Oh, I know!” His eyes lit up until he closed them to step under the water and rinse the soap from his body. “Yesterday I woke you up with coffee and breakfast. You need food, don’t you, princess?” 

She was probably in the negative for calories yesterday, but she knew he couldn’t hear the rumble of her stomach over the spray of the shower. “What makes you say that?” 

“You look like the type of girl that needs at least a cup of coffee and a biscuit before she can socialize with people. Especially on a Sunday morning.” Each word was uttered with fondness and amusement and there was something about the way he could read her so easily that irked her. 

She scoffed, the disgruntled sound bubbling up from her throat as she dried her hair, carefully squeezing the water out by section. “Maybe I am. How are you so chipper this early in the morning?” 

“Well for starters—” Finn lathered his hair with shampoo, working his thick fingers through the blond locks, “—I got to shag the most beautiful woman I have ever met, multiple times over. And then I woke up with her in my arms after the best five hours of sleep I have gotten in a while, even if she abandoned me to shower without first telling me.” 

She was trying to keep her resolve and not smile, but she couldn’t help it when the corners of her lips turned up, just in time for Finn to see it as he finished rinsing his hair.

“There’s my girl.” He shut the water off and stole his towel back to dry off with a bit of a cheeky wink and a yank of it from her hands. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek after his hair was mostly dry. “Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?” He wrapped the towel around her and pulled her against his chest until her arms wrapped around his waist and she smiled up at him.

“Fine, thank you. Now, go get me breakfast.” 

He smirked at her as he tucked the towel around her and picked her up, throwing her body over his shoulder in what was quickly becoming his signature move. Bloody caveman. He opened the door to the loo and stepped into the hall, completely starkers just as Antonin walked down the hallway from his room, smirking at her over Finn’s shoulder. 

“Finn! You don’t have any clothes on!” she squealed.

“Eh, Ant’s has seen my arse a million times. Haven’t you?” 

“Despite my insistence you at least wear underwear when you get out of the shower, unfortunately, yes.” Antonin’s reply was calm, stoic even, as the tenor of his slightly accented voice sent something of a shiver over Hermione’s spine. 

“I don’t like the way my skin feels in clothes when it's wet. You know this! Come on, princess. Let’s go get you nice and dry.” 

She shook her head blushing, absolutely avoiding eye contact with Antonin as they crossed the threshold into Finn’s room. Finn nudged the door closed with his foot and dropped her onto the large bed. With a wide, playful grin, he covered her body and caged her in with his arms. Her thighs parted to make room for his legs and she sucked in a breath, wincing at the reminder of their activities yesterday. His smile faltered slightly, concern etched into his features as he dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose. 

“Do I need to get you a pain potion?”

Hermione’s fingers stroked over his arms and along his shoulder as she shook her head. “No, I just need a rest, I think. You’ve got a bit of a monster down there and seemed quite keen to use it frequently last night.” 

“I’m still keen to use it.” His full, teasing grin returned and he kissed her cheek before rolling off of her. “The bag you sent with me is over there, though no one will make a fuss if you don’t get dressed” he gestured to the small, black overnight bag sitting on top of a dresser made of dark wood. 

“Because you need  _ more _ temptation.” 

Hermione moved off of the bed and crossed the large room to the dresser, tugging the zipper back to open the bag. She pulled the lace cheekies on after dropping her towel and didn’t miss the way Finn ogled her as she wiggled her hips into her knickers. It was rather obvious as his trousers were still part-way around his thighs and his eyes swept over her body appreciatively. 

“Merlin, you are insatiable!” 

He chuckled as he finished pulling on a pair of worn denims and a t-shirt that made her pause when she caught how it stretched across the muscles of his chest. He sat down on the bed as she clasped her bra and tugged at the straps to adjust them. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Is this a question I need coffee for?” She dug through her bag and pulled out a pair of leggings and started working her legs into the soft fabric. 

He leaned back against the rumpled bed linens, balancing his weight on his hands. “I can go get you a cup if you want. I wanted to ask you about this last night but didn’t want to kill the mood.” 

There was a small twinge of anxiety in the pit of her stomach and no matter how she tried to brush it away as she tugged her leggings over her arse, it wouldn’t leave. “Fine, ask at your own risk.” 

“When I said I didn’t want sprogs, you called me dramatic. Do you have some kind of muggle birth control device I don’t know about?” 

She sighed, “Finn.” She expected it to come up sooner than later, but she hoped she had more time before she had to fully explain her predicament. 

“Hold on, don’t answer. I sense you need a cup of coffee for this.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but it was better to rip off a plaster than pull it off slowly. She tugged a t-shirt over her head as he stood up, likely to fetch her that cup of coffee. Her lips lifted in a smile she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes and she sighed. “Sit down you fool.”

She padded across the carpeted floor and stood in between his spread legs, her hands resting on his shoulders. She tried to suppress the memories flooding her mind of the day Daphne held her hand when she went to the last specialist, but they played behind her eyes unbidden. It was no longer something she cried over—she’d used up all of her tears over the two-month span when she sought out six different fertility specialists, all of who told her the exact same thing. “The truth is, I may never have children, at least not in a conventional way.” 

The way he looked at her was something she’d seen from all of her friends when she’d told them. He had the same apologetic look in his eye as his hands slid up from where they rested on her thighs to tug her just a bit closer as he kissed the soft flesh beneath her jaw. “Merlin, princess. Why not?”

Everything was just so damn easy with him and she was surprised by the display of affection. Her friends, and even her fiancée at the time, had stood still while she recounted the tale and only managed a few awkward hugs or apologetic words thereafter. Finn, on the other hand, tugged her down into his lap and rubbed her back as she spoke. “When I was cursed—” she gestured to where the dark silvery scar bisected her torso, loathing the fact that she had to clarify exactly which curse caused it. “—the dark magic wasn’t just contained to the scar, it actually runs pretty deep and it severed one of my ovaries and a fallopian tube. I was unconscious for a long time after it happened and the other one had reduced blood flow for so long that the healers think it will be minimally functional.” 

He nodded, his face more serious than Hermione had seen it in the past thirty-something hours. 

“Plus, my other fallopian tube has some scar tissue from the curse, though it wasn’t fully severed, so if I do release an egg, which is hardly ever, it usually gets stuck in the tube. If by some miracle fertilization occurs, I will either miscarry or have to have it surgically removed, but either way, it likely won’t be viable.” 

She hated that she was able to explain it away with such clinical precision now, effectively detaching herself from the emotions that came with being young and knowing she would never have children. It was something that had caused a rift between her and Ron and for a long time, she felt so broken. It took several sessions with a Mind Healer for her to mostly come to terms with her infertility. “So basically, I can’t get pregnant. The conclusion is always the same, no matter which specialist I go to.” 

He held her close to him for a moment, large hands stroking her back beneath the t-shirt. If there was one thing she had learned about Finn, it was that he was highly tactile and always seemed to want to touch her in some way. “It was Antonin, wasn’t it?” he asked, his blue eyes meeting hers after a moment of silence. “I’ve seen that curse before and I know he was there when you were at the Ministry.” 

“Yes… but I don’t hold it against him.” Hermione nodded, “Not anymore, at least. We all did horrible things during the war, no matter what side we were on.”

She gently rubbed a kiss over his lips and smiled before desperately trying to lighten the mood, anxious to be away from a topic that still bothered her, though she could barely admit it to herself or anyone else. “So, you can pump me full of your come every time and not worry about any little Finn’s running around.” 

He laughed gently, brushing a lock of her damp curls away from her face and feathering his lips over her cheek, “I’m sorry, love—for asking I mean. That’s really personal.” 

“Oh, don’t tell me I’ve scared you away now?” She forced the cheeky grin to her lips. Ron had run… would he?

The way he smiled helped to set her at ease, even if there was a small voice in the back of her head telling her it was only a matter of time. “I’m not tired of you yet. I think I'll keep you around for a while longer.”

“I hope a lot longer.” She peeked up at him through her lashes and her cheeks heated in anticipation of what she was about to admit to this man she had only known for a little over a day. “Sex aside, everything with you is so easy. I know it has only been one date and a lot of shagging, but I feel like I’ve known you for months.” 

“So, does that mean you want to be exclusive?” 

“If that’s something you want.” 

That tiny voice in the back of her mind was relentless in its desire for him to be only hers. She wanted to be the one who wormed her way into his heart and his bed for longer than a week. She wanted to show him how wonderful having a relationship with someone could be, how magical it could be— _ with her _ .

He lifted her off her feet as he stood from the bed and kissed her, dotting kisses across the trail of freckles lining her cheeks. “I would love it!” 

He gently set her on the ground, and a flood of relief coursed through her. This wizard was hers. “Come on, let’s go see what Antonin is cooking for us—if you’re okay being around him that is. You know, after the whole curse thing?” 

She smiled up at him, “It’s fine. I’m more concerned about what he witnessed last night.” And this morning.

He placed one of the gentle kisses against her lips that left her wanting more no matter how sore she was before he pulled her out the door for breakfast. 

The scent of bacon frying lured Hermione and Finn to the kitchen where Antonin was already cooking breakfast, a towel draped over his shoulder. Even though her hand was clasped firmly within Finn’s, Hermione couldn’t help the way her eyes took in his appearance. A black t-shirt clung to the finely corded muscles of his torso and arms while a pair of grey lounge pants were slung low on his hips, a sliver of deeply tanned skin just barely visible. He was leaner than Finn but just as tall with dark hair and black geometric patterns inking his hands and arms before disappearing beneath his shirt. His eyes were like pools of molten chocolate, just as she remembered from the night before, and she was thoroughly struck between the contrast of the man with the gentle smile and the gaunt lunatic who cursed her some 14 years prior. 

Her reverie was broken when he turned to pour them both a mug of coffee from the nearby carafe before setting them on the counter near containers of sugar and milk.

“G’ mornin’ lovebirds.” 

They both murmured their greetings, each fixing coffee to their liking while the silence dragged on save for the sizzle of bacon frying in a pan.

Hermione peeked up at Antonin as he moved about the kitchen with relative ease, though there was a tenseness to his shoulders that hadn’t been there when they’d first walked in the room. He was precise, efficient, and kept his work area spotless as he set about chopping onions and potatoes the muggle way, though his wand was peeking out of his pocket. 

Hermione missed the way Finn glanced between them and rolled his eyes because she was too preoccupied between staring down into her half-drunk mug of coffee and sneaking glances at Antonin. 

“Well, this is awkward.” Leave it to Finn to break the silence. 

“You don’t say,” Antonin murmured, sliding the potatoes into the pan with the onions and starting to crumble the cooked bacon.

Hermione circled the spoon in her glass, biting her lip and absolutely avoiding any kind of eye contact with the man who watched her come apart last night, against a wall no less. 

“Hermione forgives you.” 

That… was not anything like what she expected Finn to say. Would Antonin really be bothered by something that happened so many years ago? She thought back to how she had acted around him in their brief interactions. She’d acted completely mortified and had essentially either hidden her face or ran past him so fast that he likely didn’t have anything else to go off of. 

Her head popped up and even though Antonin’s mouth was open as though he was going to say something, she cut him off. “It's true. I… don’t hold anything against either of you for what happened in the war.” 

Finn turned toward Hermione and pressed his lips against her ear and then kissed her temple. “Ant currently works at Gringotts as a curse breaker, and a bloody good one at that.”

She offered Antonin a small, nervous smile. “That’s brilliant work, truly. One of my good friends is a curse breaker in Egypt and—” Hermione stopped herself before she started rambling and extended her hand, “It’s nice to see you again, Antonin.” 

He blushed and briefly folded his hand around hers in a simple handshake. His palm was warm and the pads of his fingers rough, likely from time spent in the field and the image of him running those hands over her ribs played behind her eyes before she had the wherewithal to shove it away. “And you as well, Hermione.” 

And just when it was not quite as awkward anymore and Hermione had just taken a sip of her coffee, which she nearly choked on, Finn just had to say “Hermione has a thing for you and wants you to join us sometime.” 

She sputtered and forced the warm liquid down her throat before she turned and slapped Finn in the chest, her mouth open in shock, and her eyes the size of galleons. “You prat! I did not say that!” 

Antonin merely smiled which in turn, left Hermione somewhat on edge. The thought of having Antonin join them had absolutely crossed her mind and she couldn’t make out from the way Antonin smiled whether or not he agreed. 

Finn made his way behind where Hermione sat on the barstool gripping her coffee and trying to discern anything from the wizard standing before her, spatula in hand and ready to flip the eggs as though he’d not seen her fall apart last night. Large hands slid over her shoulders to wrap around her body as trails of soft kisses were placed along her neck, the gentle presses of lips and flicks of Finn’s tongue made her squirm in her seat. “Should I tell him how hard you came on my cock when he was watching yesterday… hmm?” he whispered. 

Hermione’s teeth sank into her lower lip as she bit back a moan while Antonin rolled his eyes. 

“You goad your witch anymore and she’s going to leave, Finn. I walked in at an inopportune time. I saw things. Let’s move on and at least  _ pretend _ we are adults here.” His gaze shifted between the three of them and even though he appeared outwardly relaxed, Hermione couldn’t help but notice how his dark eyes were swirling with unanswered questions. 

But, she ignored the look in his eyes snickered a bit at that as the tension dissolved for a moment, only to come crashing back when Antonin brought up the elephant in the room, introducing the one topic she hoped she wouldn’t have to speak about with him, no matter her feelings on the subject. 

“I cursed you and have always been curious to know if it left a scar since you silenced me.” As if to avoid her gaze, he moved to fiddle with the pans at the stove, though she caught how his own quickly turned from amused to somber, as though he were remorseful. 

Her hand stroked over the burnished line beneath her shirt, fingertips trailing over the familiar scar from the origin to the endpoint. “Yes… it did.” Finn dropped a kiss to the top of her head and rested his chin against her curls, the tips of his fingers stroking along her arms. 

“Can I—could I see?” He still wasn’t looking at her as he divided the meal onto three plates, but when he turned she could see the hesitancy in his eyes. She didn’t have a problem with him looking at it, it would have been easy to pull the collar of her shirt down, but she couldn’t stand the tension anymore and was resolved to lighten it, so she laughed. It was something loud and clear, bubbling up from her throat as a smile spread over her face.

“If you took me to dinner first, perhaps. It’s in a bit of a private spot.” 

She felt the rumble of Finn’s laughter behind her. “It’s a good one. I’ve seen it.” 

She reached up and covered his mouth, tilting her head back to look upon him fondly. “That’s enough out of you.” 

Antonin’s brows raised and he gave a curt nod, picking up one of the three plates and his cup of coffee. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Make sure you clean the counters with more than just a spell if you shag in my kitchen. I’ll be in my room.” 

“See you,” Hermione said, though it came out a bit more awkward than she intended when she added a bit of a wave of her hand. 

They tucked into their breakfast, eating in companionable silence and when their plates were clear, Finn sent them into the sink with a flick of his wand and refilled both of their coffee mugs. Hermione felt much more awake but the silence between them grew somewhat awkward as they both seemingly tried to figure out where to go from here. 

“Would you—”

“I need—” they spoke simultaneously, words overshadowing each other’s. 

Finn laughed, “Go ahead.” 

Hermione’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink and she tucked a curl behind her ear. “I was just going to say that I need to be home in a few hours. I’m due in court early on Monday and have a few things left to do to prepare.” 

“But you’ll stay for a while longer?” 

“Just a bit.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut this chapter, but we get to meet Antonin! We are SO grateful for the overwhelming support we have received from this story, this chapter pushes us up to almost 25k words and we are only 5 chapters in! Keep letting us know what you think, and what your predictions are for the coming chapters.

On any other day, he would have read his copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ in his favorite leather wingback in the sitting room while sipping a cup of tea, but the last thing Antonin wanted was another repeat of last night. He was not certain whether Thorfinn’s new paramour had left their home, and didn’t feel like the risk was worth it. While he’d bedded his fair share of women, some of which were shared with his best friend, there was something about seeing  _ this _ particular witch come apart that struck something within him. 

It was as if a string had been plucked and the first sounds of a harmonious chord were swirling around him leaving him aching for the melody to resolve. 

And because he felt uneasy pining after his friend’s witch, he’d left them to their business and escaped to his room. The plate from breakfast lay discarded on the side table and now, he was reclined in his bed, reading a rather terrible story about the latest tragic thing to befall poor Marietta Edgecombe-McLaggan-Goyle. He was just shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the socialite’s misfortune when Finn came barreling into his room, the door flying open on its hinges. 

The paper crinkled in his hands as he startled. “Ever heard of knocking there, mate?” 

Finn snorted, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the door frame. “You never seemed to mind before. Are you trying to hide something from me?” 

Antonin righted his newspaper and turned the page with a highly constructed air of nonchalance, leaving the woes of the socialite behind, and more importantly, absolutely  _ not _ thinking about how he wanked to the thought of his best mate’s girlfriend this morning. “No secrets here.” He flicked the periodical down and met Finn’s eyes with a raised brow. “What, no shag fest tonight?” 

“Nah,” Finn sighed and crossed the room, plopping down at the foot of Antonin’s bed and resting back on one elbow. “Hermione has some big case tomorrow, and wants time to prepare.” 

“Ah, I see.” An awkward silence passed between the two, a rarity in their 30-year friendship, and unable to hide his curiosity he managed to blurt out exactly what was on his mind. “Of all the witches in London, how did you manage to bring  _ that one _ home?” 

Merlin knew if he said her name, it would probably come out wistful and longing, and the last thing Antonin wanted was for Thorfinn to think that he was pining after his witch. 

Which he wasn’t. 

(Okay, maybe just a little.) 

The first time he’d seen her, she’d been a tiny scrap of a thing with wild hair and panic in her eyes. She’d been all of sixteen when she’d silenced him just before the curse left his lips and instead of rendering her incapacitated and removing the memory of the previous six hours as it was meant to do, the effect of the curse was completely unknown. Her screams still haunted his memory from time to time. He might have been doing the Dark Lord’s bidding, but it had never been his intention to harm the girl. 

Finn laughed and readjusted his position, resting on the palm of his right hand with a dreamy smile on his lips. It was a good look for his best friend if Antonin was honest with himself. He’d not seen Finn this happy in a long while. “The only thing I wanted was to make sure she made it home safe. There were some guys in the bar that night that were not quiet in their desire to bring a witch home and have their way with her. It was rather abhorrent, really. She was too far gone and little Malfoy and his chit just left her there, completely pissed, so I decided to get her out of there.” 

Antonin nodded, carefully folding the newsprint so he could continue reading about the trials and tribulations of Mrs. Edgecombe-McLaggan-Goyle later and set it atop the plate from breakfast. “Then you turned on your charm and got into her knickers?” 

Finn snickered, finally flopping back onto the bed and tucking his hands beneath his head. Antonin silently thanked the gods above that he no longer had to make eye contact with the man while they discussed his lover. “No! I escorted her home to make sure she made it okay, then ended up falling asleep on her couch. I wanted to make sure she actually woke up in the morning. She was a wreck. I was concerned.”

Antonin couldn’t help the laugh that worked its way up from his throat. Not once had his mate ever gone home with a witch because he was _ concerned _ . “Is concerned a new word for randy? Some new bit of British slang I should be aware of?”

Finn tilted his head and rolled his eyes, “Very funny, you tosser.” His gaze shifted back to the ceiling before he continued. “Considering who it was, yeah,  _ actually _ . Anyway, I poked my head in her room in the morning and it looked like she had been up at some point and made an attempt to clean up—at least change her clothes and shower. I decided to cook her breakfast and see what she was like, you know, when she wasn’t drunk or shooting curses at my head.” 

“You cooked? Poor thing. No wonder why she was starved this morning.” 

“I managed with the sausages and it’s hard to mess up toast and eggs, you arse.” 

Antonin purposefully ordered food from the Leakey any time he was ill, after Finn insisted on taking over the cooking the first time he’d caught Pixie Flu. He was quite certain Finn’s cooking prolonged his illness by at least two days. “If anyone knows how, it’s you.” 

Finn shook his head, though Antonin could see he was still smiling. This banter between them was something easy—something comfortable to take his mind off of Hermione’s pink cheeks and bright brown eyes. “Remind me to clock you later, yeah?” 

“I don’t think I will.” 

“Honestly, I was a bit surprised when she didn’t immediately throw me out, but we had a bit of small talk over coffee and I told her about what happened with our favourite madman which softened her a bit. Believe it or not,  _ she _ lured me into bed. Dropped her knickers right there in the kitchen.” 

“Then the shag-fest ensued?” 

Finn rubbed his hands over his face and stood up, pacing along at the foot of the bed while Antonin’s eyes watched him move back and forth. There was something about the set of his shoulders and the expression on his best friend’s face that was just a bit troubling. “I’m not gonna lie, the sex was great… but after, when I took her to dinner, we talked more and  _ Circe _ , mate, she’s bloody perfect. Realised you weren’t home and couldn’t wait, so I shagged her against the wall.” 

The sheepish smirk Finn gave at least made him look a bit apologetic. 

Antonin was fairly certain he wouldn’t forget that sight unless someone tore the memory from his mind. Not that he wanted to—no, the image of Hermione coming was absolutely something he wanted to remember. “Yes, of that part, I am aware.”

“She—” 

“I know, mate. Believe me, it’s been a while, but I know.” The nod was slow as Antonin carefully tucked the memory of her falling apart while looking at  _ him _ back into the box in his mind and as soon as he had her safely put away once more, the awkward silence had returned. 

Thorfinn paced, hands thrust into the pocket of his jeans and looking anywhere but at Antonin. 

Antonin allowed the silence to fester for a few more moments before saying anything. “So... is she your girlfriend now or just a one-off?” 

Finn stopped pacing, just to the left of center, and nodded.“Yes, I asked her this morning. She’s the best—” 

Antonin stopped him with a firm wave of his hand, knowing that if Finn continued he would feel the spark of jealousy he was so desperately trying to suppress. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t mind you sharing, but considering what I already saw, it might be oversharing if you keep going.” 

His plea fell on deaf ears because Thorfinn didn’t stop and Antonin was forced to draw a deep breath. “No secrets between us, right mate? She’s easily at the top of the list when I think about every woman who’s shared my bed. Never thought I’d find one better than that chit from Sweden, but bloody fucking hell. Less than two days and I’m a right mess. Something about her… she’s just so— she’s  _ amazing _ .” 

The tension built, though Antonin was the only one who seemed to notice as he swallowed down the sour taste of jealousy in his mouth and forced his voice to sound normal. “I’m happy for you, Finn,  _ really. _ But I have to ask that if you shag her here that you keep it to your room. The poor girl doesn’t need me walking in on the two of you again.” 

Finn laughed and the tension Antonin had been feeling seemed to dissolve. “You should join us sometime. Merlin knows that was the hottest thing that has ever happened during sex and we’ve shared witches before, and I know I wouldn’t mind a repeat of it.” 

While part of him wanted to jump at the opportunity to bed the witch with his best friend, there was a nagging feeling that left him… apprehensive. Thorfinn’s demeanor throughout their entire exchange—the very same that left Antonin feeling a bit troubled, clearly showed how smitten his best friend was with the illustrious Hermione Granger.

Not that he could blame him. That one glimpse of Hermione in the midst of pleasure had been enough to spur something deep within him and Antonin thoroughly suspected that if he were given a mere taste of the witch, he would crave her until the end of his days. 

“I think you need to see where it goes for a bit before you consider bringing me in. You don’t want her to get the wrong idea about your plans, and the last thing I need is to stand as your best man when you marry her knowing what it feels like when she’s naked and writhing beneath me.” The words felt like ash in his mouth, but he couldn’t let his own selfishness ruin his friend’s chance at something good. 

A wide grin spread across Finn’s mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You already know what she looks like when she comes. You’re half-way there, mate.” 

“Thanks for the visual— _ again _ .” Antonin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, knowing he needed to change the subject or else he’d never be able to move past this reminiscent school-yard crush. “Tell me about the scar.” He’d seen it just peeking out of the top of her dress the night he’d caught them in the act and knew it was from that night all those years ago. 

Some days, Antonin was surprised that Finn had been sorted into Slytherin with how easily his emotions were read. Like a large print text, too bloody easy not to notice, Antonin watched a nervous look flash across his friend’s fade that made his stomach feel as if it were about to turn itself inside-out.

Finn hesitated, clearly trying to find the words before letting out a rough sigh. “It… uh… it fucked her up pretty bad, mate. Goes about from her collarbone to her hip, like a slice,” Finn traced the path of it on his own chest with his hand. “She mentioned a few things that must have come from a Muggle healer because I’ve never heard anyone at St. Mungo’s talk like that, but basically they said that she can’t have kids.”

Blood rushed through Antonin’s ears and his hands formed fists, his blunt nails digging into his palms with such force that it was a miracle blood wasn’t drawn. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed as the sound of her screams echoed through his mind. They were only silenced when he felt Thorfinn’s hand at his shoulder. “It wasn’t—”

“I know, Ant. We’ve talked about that curse at length and how it was meant to look bloody awful but have a relatively mild impact. I know… and she knows too. She’s moved on, forgiven you even. It might be time for you to forgive yourself too.” 

Taking away a young woman’s chance at a family when a curse of his own creation morphed into something so sinister when cast silently wasn’t something he was quite ready to forgive himself for, so he settled with humming noncommittally. 

But, he needed to know more. Being a curse breaker was something of a passion for him, no less his chosen profession, and if there was a way he could break this one… it was something he would work tirelessly to achieve. “So, the curse... she can’t have kids now?” 

Finn nodded slowly, giving Antonin’s shoulder a squeeze. “It appears that way. She saw a handful of specialists and they all came to the same conclusion. Mentioned something about scar tissue and something being severed, but she seems to have accepted it by now. I would imagine that was a tough pill to swallow, but she was very nonchalant about it.” 

Antonin nervously chewed the inside of his lip while his hands flexed in his lap, knowing that there likely wasn’t any way he could reverse it if something truly was severed and the scar tissue was too great to contend with. Some curses merely inhabited their hosts and could be removed with careful spellwork, but if what Finn said was true, it was likely the curse had morphed into something that caused physical damage—something like a slicing hex, perhaps. 

“I would imagine it wasn’t always like that. I couldn’t imagine being told I would never have kids.” He remembered what it was like before his parents died, before he was sent back to Russia to live with his gods-awful relatives. A family of his own was something Antonin had always wanted, he just hadn’t found the right witch… yet. 

Finn playfully punched him in the arm, and Antonin never appreciated his friend more for trying to lighten the mood. “Do you think we will even have kids? Can you imagine? Blokes like us walking eleven-year-olds onto the platform when we’re in our 50’s or 60’s? Still young by wizarding standards, but ages older than most.” As soon as he said it, Antonin tried to picture himself with an armful of kids and a wife, waving goodbye to their siblings on the train. The truth is, he  _ did _ want that. No matter the age. 

The blond chuckled, “Might be best if we find us a young witch to donate her body to the cause, I’m not certain we’re the types to settle down and get married.”

Antonin found himself laughing. “Yeah, the next time I go on a date I’ll be sure to suggest that I’m only after her for her childbearing capabilities. I’m certain she’ll stick around knowing I only want a surrogate and nothing else that comes with bedding a witch.” Antonin shook his head, smiling a bit. “You’re mental, mate. No witch in her right mind would agree to that.” 

Finn snickered as he sauntered to the doorway leading into Antonin’s room. “Never say never! We’ll find someone, I’m sure. Our swimmers have to be good until we are 90, at  _ least _ , and I plan to live to the ripe old age of 150,” he winked. “We still have fifty years or so to prowl for ladies.” 

“I promise not to tell your girlfriend you’re prowling for ladies.” 

“Oh.. yeah, I’ll bet she wouldn’t be too keen on that. .”

While Antonin knew he would dwell on the curse that had robbed Hermione of having children when Finn left him alone again, he was grateful for the temporary distraction and found himself chuckling again. “Are you going to be around for dinner?” 

“Probably. Chinese takeaway?” 

Antonin smiled and gestured with his finger towards his temple, “Like you read my mind.” 

“Should be able to after thirty-plus years of friendship, mate. You’re stuck with me. Sorry, not sorry.” 

* * *

A veritable sea of parchment surrounded Hermione as she attempted to organize her notes and tweak her opening statement for the case she was presenting tomorrow before the Wizengamot. Several papers floated in the air as they sorted themselves into neat piles with a flick of her wand when the sound of her ringtone cut through the air and caused her to lose her concentration, scattered the papers on the floor around her desk. 

“Bollocks!”

Swiping her finger over the screen after seeing Daphne’s smiling face pop up, she pressed the Muggle device to her ear. “Hey Daph, can I—”. 

“Hey!” Daphne cut her off before she could even finish. “I have Pansy on as well, three-way. We wanted to see how your weekend went.” Her lovely soprano sounded entirely too cheerful to be completely innocent and Hermione absolutely  _ did not _ want to have this conversation right now. 

Hermione rubbed a hand over her face, eyes drifting to the scattered papers on the floor. “I have to prepare for this trial tomorrow, I really don’t have time—” 

“Then you better cut right to the chase and tell us who you brought home on Friday night.” The honeyed alto tone of Pansy’s voice cut through the line and Hermione knew that even if she pushed the button to end the call right this moment that they would just call back. As much as she adored her two former nemeses, they were both relentless in their pursuit of gossip—especially if it pertained to her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up from her desk, flicking her wand with her free hand towards the various pieces of parchment on the floor to send them back into the correct stacks. “How do you two even know about that?” 

“I may or may not have seen the text messages you sent to Draco. Silly man doesn’t seem to realize I can read them over his shoulder. It’s fantastic.” 

“You probably shouldn’t admit things like that out loud, Daph,” Pansy said.

Hermione sighed, tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder to carefully straighten the stacks of parchment. “There’s not much to tell.” 

“So, then why did our floo call go unanswered last night?” Daphne pressed.

“Multiple times.” Pansy added, like Daphne needed any sort of help in the interrogation.

“I even popped over. No answer.” 

“Hmm... I wonder what you were doing.”

“Surely she wasn’t at Tesco at ten in the evening.” 

“No, Hermione buys groceries on Tuesdays,  _ everyone _ knows that.”

“Then what on earth could it be?” 

Hermione grimaced silently as she grasped her mobile in her hand once more and collapsed down onto the sofa. “Okay fine! A gentleman escorted me home to make sure I made it in one piece. He slept on the couch and I thanked him the next morning.” A small smile crept over her lips as the memories of Finn rutting against her in nearly every room in her flat played back in her head. 

The dramatic gasp must have been Pansy while the low whistle was clearly Daphne. “How many times did you  _ thank _ this man?” Pansy’s voice seemed to have increased by at least an octave and Hermione was forced to lift the phone away from her ear so as not to damage her eardrums. 

“I’m sore, if that tells you anything” She stifled a laugh because the truth was she had lost count of exactly how many times he’d made her come, but she definitely would not indulge  _ that _ tidbit of information to her friends. “But neither of you can tell your wizards. I don’t want Harry knowing until I _ know _ that this one will stick around and Draco is a terrible gossip on the best of days.” 

It was a lie. 

Something told her that after the heartfelt admissions she and Finn had shared earlier in the day that he would stick around for as long as she would let him. Truthfully, Getting used to the idea of having a steady boyfriend again was a bit... daunting. Especially since the tiny voice in the back of her mind told her over and over again she would need to let him go before things became too serious. A man like him deserved a witch who would give him a family—children, something she would never be able to do. 

There was a moment of silence as if they were truly weighing whether or not they could get away with telling their significant others before Daphne spoke up “So, who was this  _ gentleman _ anyway?” 

Hermione sat back up, glancing back towards the waiting stacks on her desk. “My lips are sealed. I’ve already told you both more than I planned on telling you, so that’s it.” She walked over to her desk and tried to sift through her notes for a particular paper related to centaur rights, hoping that the sound of shuffling parchment in the background would give her friends the hint that she needed to return to her work.

“Hermione,” Daphne implored, her voice lilting upwards just slightly. 

“Nope! Not going to happen. I always tell the two of you everything and I’m keeping this to myself for a bit until there is actually something to tell.” 

“Merlin, Granger, enough with the dramatics. The second this turns serious, we expect your call.” It was no wonder Pansy’s eldest was the most polite three-year-old Hermione had ever met. That witch brooked no argument in absolutely everything she said, even to the point where Hermione felt that if Pansy wanted Harry’s untidy hair to lay flat that the witch could just verbally reprimand it into submission.

“You have my word but I really do need to go. I’ve got a bit more revising to do before I go before the Wizengamot in the morning.” 

“The only reason you’re getting off of the hook right now is because this baby has been using my bladder as a bloody trampoline and I need to wee for the eightieth time today.” 

Hermione could almost hear the eyeroll in Daphne’s voice. “Thank Merlin for small mercies. I don’t fancy listening to you using the loo again.” 

“It was once!” 

“Once was more than enough, Pans.” 

Hermione chuckled, “Give Jamie and the baby my love.”

“I will once he stops throwing a fit over Harry giving him the wrong coloured cup. Why Harry would offer him the goldenrod one when James  _ clearly  _ prefers aquamarine is beyond me. I left him to clean up that bout of accidental magic and deal with his son.” 

“What was it you called him, Pans? A three-nager?”

“He’s worse than the whole bloody lot of Gryffindors we went to school with some days.” 

“I take offense to that!” Hermione couldn’t help but grin, they’d long moved past house rivalries, but they still came up occasionally. 

“Shut it, you’re the worst of the lot,” Daphne teased. “You’re getting us off track with all of this talk of babies and tiny people. Remember, the moment it turns serious—” 

“Yes, yes. Good night, you two. Kiss Harry and Draco for me.” Hermione pulled the phone away from her ear and ended the call before Daphne or Pansy could attempt to pry any more information from her about Finn. Begrudgingly, she sat back down at her desk and continued revising. 


	6. Chapter 6

A memo shaped like a paper bird flew into Hermione’s office and perched on her desk lightly before unfolding itself into a flattened envelope. The magenta wax keeping the letter sealed immediately elicited an irritated grumble since her supervisor—who’d merely slept her way up the ladder in order to rise in the ranks―had absolutely no business being in a position of authority. 

Every single time one of these memos landed on her desk with the glaring pink seal, it meant she was about to be given loads more work on a case that she had already put countless hours of her time into. “It’s because you are so great at what you do,” the witch would say, but what the infernal woman really meant was “I can’t be bothered to do it myself and would rather delegate and take credit for it later.” Hermione wasn’t privy to the supervisory meetings, but she’d heard the information second hand enough times to know it happened more often than not. 

_Bloody Susan Bones_. The witch had been rather innocuous and mild-mannered when they’d been at school together but she’d turned into an absolute bint and Hermione had almost quit no less than three times in the year following Susan’s promotion.

Hermione slid her letter opener beneath the wax seal and opened the letter, unfolding the paper to reveal the annoying swirly handwriting she knew would be there. Before Susan became her supervisor, Hermione had never realized just how irritated one could get over penmanship. 

> _Hermione,_
> 
> _Howard thinks that consulting with a curse breaker would be the perfect way to tie up loose ends in this case. He contacted Gringotts and they will be sending a representative to us this afternoon at 1 pm sharp. We expect you there._
> 
> _Thank you for being wonderful._
> 
> _Susan A. Bones_

“Thank you for being wonderful my arse, stupid cow.” She set the memo aside before she penned a reply she would regret and gave herself a few moments to breathe as she sat back in her office chair and read through a deposition. Once she was finished—and calm enough not to snap at her boss she plucked her quill from its stand, dipped it into the inkpot and scribbled out her reply.

> _Wouldn’t miss it for the world._
> 
> _Warmest Regards,_
> 
> _Hermione J. Granger_

After speaking with her assistant to reschedule her afternoon meetings for the second time this week, Hermione folded the bit of parchment and sealed it with brilliant blue wax. With the swish of her wand, she transfigured the missive into an ornate paper raven and sent it flying from her office to Susan’s—not that Susan would know a raven from a pigeon. 

The glimmer of a _Tempus_ appeared overhead with a flick of her wand, the time reading 11:46 am in brilliant gold. “Good, plenty of time to eat and prepare for yet another asinine meeting,” she muttered as she righted her blouse and picked the next deposition up to peruse.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I brought lunch to your office. Wouldn’t want you to miss your _asinine_ meeting.” 

The packet she’d been holding up fell to the desk as she gasped, a smile sliding over her lips when she saw Finn was leaning against the doorframe, holding a bag of takeaway, and looking _ridiculously_ fit in a pair of trousers and polo. “What are you doing here?” 

He crossed the threshold into her office and placed the takeaway bag down on a parchment-free spot on her desk before making his way behind it. “I’ve been wanting to see your office and bring you lunch for a few days now, so I did. I hope you don’t mind, but if you’re too busy I can drop it and run. I just couldn’t wait until tonight to see you. I missed you.” He scooped her up from her chair into his arms and left a kiss against her lips that left her wanting to melt into him. 

“Please stay, I would love a break.” She placed her palms on both of his cheeks and pulled him down for another kiss, stroking over the scruff lining his jaw with her thumbs. The second one as sweet as the first. “Thank you for bringing me lunch.”

She quickly conjured her Patronus to inform her assistant that she would be taking lunch and sent the silvery otter swimming away before locking the door. 

Finn’s brow raised and his lips quirked in a bit of a smirk when the locking charm set. “What are you doing there, princess?” 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, you prat.” She punctuated her statement with a light slap to his chest, though his hand caught hers before she could pull it away, holding it in place as if he wanted her to feel how his heartbeat beneath her palm. “If I leave the door open, too many people will stop by and I’d rather not be bothered. Tell me what you’ve done today.” 

His hand stroked along the curve of her waist. “Oh you know, just a little of this, a bit of that.” 

“So, nothing then?” Hermione had learned sometime during their third date in three days that Finn simply lived off of his family's vaults and spent his days as he pleased. In the beginning, his lack of a profession had bothered her, but after a bit of research, she uncovered articles showcasing his philanthropy. She was especially proud of the photographs of him surrounded by children laughing and smiling in front of the Rowle Library for Children in a modest wizarding village near Kent. 

“Yeah, basically. Nothing is written into my timetable for today.” Finn let out a gentle laugh and pulled her close, dropping his forehead to rest against hers. “I've missed you, though.” 

Her arms wound around his neck and she nuzzled her nose against Finn’s. “If I didn’t know any better I would think you are going soft. You have said that twice now. You’ve missed me? It’s only been a few hours,” she teased, knowing that leaving his flat that morning had been difficult when all she wanted to do was stay cuddled up in bed. A light pink stained Finn’s cheeks. “Antonin said he was leaving you a plate when I went through the floo.” 

She’d spent more nights at Finn and Antonin’s flat in the past week and a half than she had at her own, not that she mentioned that to Pansy or Daphne. 

“That he did.” 

She was about to say something else, but the thought fluttered away from her mind as if it caught flight when Finn pulled her body flush against his and parted her lips with his tongue, kissing her breathless. Her fingers pulled through his hair, grasping tightly and keeping him in place as he pressed her back against her desk and ground his hips against her. She’d nearly been late to work because he’d invaded her shower and now she might not get lunch because he was absolutely _insatiable_ . All that considered, she’d much rather have _him_ than whatever he’d brought from the cafe down the street.

“Finn—”

“Do you have any idea what this tight little skirt does to me?” His large hand slid along her stocking covered leg and up under the navy pencil skirt to grasp her thigh. “Bloody irresistible.”

Hermione smiled against his lips, fumbling for her wand and casting a silencing charm over the office before discarding the bit of wood in favour of another kind.

“You naughty little witch.” 

Taking a step back from him, Hermione’s hand drifted down his polo and paused at his belt buckle. “Can’t leave my man wanting, now can I?” 

He hummed appreciatively, pulling the pins from her curls so they tumbled over her shoulders before threading his fingers into her hair. “Say it again.” 

“My. Man.” She punctuated each word with a tug of his belt, drawing the strap through the buckle with a confident surety as she watched his eyes darken.

Finn’s hands skated over her sides until they rested the small of her back. When Hermione felt his fingers grasp the zipper at the back of her skirt, she paused in her own unbuttoning of his trousers to pull his hands away. “No, let me do this for you.” 

She quickly finished freeing the button and drawing the zipper down as he groaned. Curling her fingers over the waistbands of his trousers and pants, she pushed them down just enough to allow his erection to spring free. With one hand resting upon his chest, she guided him back to sit in her office chair before falling to her knees. The way his hands gripped the arms of the chair made her smirk before her mouth parted and she lowered just enough to press her open lips against the darkened head of his cock.

Her tongue darted out to taste the tip of him before she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. She heard him hiss in pleasure as she slowly began to move her mouth over him, taking in just a bit more of his manhood with each pass. His fingers threaded into the curls at the back of her head and his grip tightened, a moan escaping her as he lightly thrust into her mouth. 

Hermione tried to pull back to tease him more, but he kept his hold and pressed her further onto his cock until she felt herself swallowing around him as he pressed into her throat. Saliva dribbled from her mouth as he held her there, gagging around him, hands clawing at his thighs until a satisfied groan fell from his lips. He tugged her back by her curls until the tip of his cock rested against her painted lips. 

“If you continue like that I will be coming down your throat instead of where I want to, now stand up and turn around for me like a good girl.” 

Merlin, Morgana, and all of the Fates. Why did that pet name send a flood of arousal through her? She took his offered hand and stood after pressing a playful kiss to the head of his cock. The moment she was upright, he rucked her skirt up around her waist before tugging at the scrap of lace between her thighs to reveal the neat patch of damp curls below. 

She stepped out of knickers, leaving them discarded on the floor before Finn’s large hands settled on her thighs and parted her legs. His finger slid through her slit with ease, coming away coated in shiny arousal before he licked it clean with long swipes of his tongue. “Merlin princess, sucking my cock in your office does _this_ to you?” 

She leaned in for a kiss, “Maybe it’s just you.” 

“You’ll be the death of me.” He moaned before he kissed her mercilessly.

“Death by fucking…sounds like a great way to go,” she teased as he spun her around and pressed a hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over her desk. Grabbing her wand as two thick fingers pressed into her, she sent everything on her desk to arrange itself neatly on one of the bookshelves near the crackling fireplace, though it all landed a bit haphazard since the spell was uttered between soft whimpers. 

“My filthy girl.” Finn parted her wild curls and nipped at the skin on the back of her neck, leaving a love bite as he thrust his fingers within her, each drag along the front wall pulling moans from her throat. She felt the brush of his wet fingers over her arse and then his cock nudging her entrance before she pitched forward with the force of his thrust. She clutched at the edge of her desk as he wrapped his hand in her curls and his hips snapping against her with bruising force. 

“So _bloody_ tight,” he groaned, one hand reaching around her hip. The valley of his fingers centered over her clit between them as he worked her towards completion. “Not going to last very long, need you to get there.”

She pressed up on her toes, arching her back so that each thick ridge of his cock brushed against that spot deep inside of her that made her see stars. Incoherent curses and babbles were interspersed with moans as her walls began to flutter and pulse around him as if trying to hold him inside of her. 

His hand tightened in her hair as he continued to work his fingers in time with each powerful thrust, designed to drive her towards her climax.

“Gods, Hermione. Come for me, love. I need you to come.” 

It was as if her body needed his permission because the moment he begged her to come, she was falling over the edge with stars bursting behind her eyelids and his name falling from her lips. His fingers pressed and swirled over her clit, drawing out her pleasure as he released his grip on her hair to grasp her hip, finding his own release a moment later. Her walls pulsed around him as he spilled within her leaving her inner walls coated in his spend as he panted heavy breaths against her back. Hermione rested her head on the cool wood of her desk, the feeling in her limbs slowly returning. 

She picked up her wand, preparing to twist her wrist in familiar motion of a cleansing spell, but just as she lifted the tapered tip into the air, Finn’s hand covered her own. He pressed up, sliding her wand out of her hand as he took a step back, his tongue tutting with disapproval. “You know better than that, princess.” She felt the thick press of his fingers as they drew through her folds to smear the sticky substance just over her inner thighs. “You know how much I love knowing my come is still dripping out of you.”

Pressing up from where she rested on her elbows, Hermione walked her hands over her desk and stood up, her thighs rubbing together and smearing the slick between her thighs even more. She groaned, her cheeks flushed as she pulled her fingers through her curls, untangling the mess Thorfinn had made of them. “Hand me my knickers, would you?”

When she turned around, he’d put himself to rights and was dangling the blue lace from the tip of his finger, smirking at her as if he’d just been awarded an Order of Merlin First Class. “Don’t think so. These are mine now, might even frame them.” 

He grinned at her and held them out of her reach when she attempted to swipe them from his hand. “Give them back!”

He shook his head. "No, I don't think I will."

“I have a meeting with an important person later today. I _need_ my knickers.” She attempted to right her clothing, shimmying the tight blue skirt back down over her hips after checking for runs in her stockings, knowing she would likely have to cast a wrinkle-reducing charm in order to make herself look presentable before her meeting.

Finn leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “If only that important person knew you were walking around without your knickers and how lovely your reward for doing so…” 

“You are incorrigible, Thorfinn Rowle, and now you have long overstayed your welcome. Get out of my office.” She countered her command with a sweet peck against his cheek and a press of her palms against his chest. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Oh yes, you will, princess. Be good.” Finn winked and tucked her knickers into his pocket before kissing her one last time. 

She nearly had to push him out of her office, but after he left, Hermione tucked into the salad and sandwich he brought her from the cafe down the street. As soon as her stomach was sated, she checked to make sure the sticky substance on her thighs hadn’t bled through onto her skirt before casting a spell to resolve the wrinkles on her blouse and skirt. She set her office back to rights so her assistant would be none the wiser as to what exactly transpired over lunch and arrived at the conference room with ten minutes to spare.

When she opened the door, the case file tucked against her chest, Hermione found that her boss, Howard Smith, and her despicable supervisor, Susan Bones, were already there. It was clear exactly how Susan had _earned_ her position with the way she was touching Howard’s shoulder and flirting with him. 

_Stupid bint._

“Ah, Hermione, how nice to see you today. Thank you for joining us.” Howard took a step back from Susan as he spoke entirely too loud for their small conference room. 

Hermione plastered a smile on her face and attempted to sound genuine, but she was still a bit chuffed at the last minute meeting and extra work, no matter how much she’d enjoyed her bit of stress-relief over lunch. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

The small talk between the three of them dragged on while they waited for the curse breaker from Gringotts to arrive. Eventually, Hermione made her way to the side table and poured herself a glass of water to get a break from Susan’s giggling. Susan was about three more giggles away from being hexed and Hermione took a sip of water to fight the urge just as the floo flared to life and the Gringotts’ representative stepped out. 

He was tall and smartly dressed in a suit but there was no mistaking the man who was siphoning soot from his clothing and Hermione managed to aspirate a bit of water, leading to a coughing fit when she set her eyes on Antonin Dolohov. He looked much different than when she’d left this morning after a quick breakfast when he was wearing nothing but a tight t-shirt and a pair of joggers. She’d never seen him quite so professionally dressed in a tailored suit with his dark hair coiffed perfectly, but she suspected the majority of his days were spent doing fieldwork, rather than meeting with legal teams in stuffy offices. 

She had to admit, he cleaned up nice.

“Antonin!” she squeaked, simultaneously mortified by the feeling of the sticky substance between her legs and knowing her face was flushed from the coughing fit she’d just managed to move past, though her throat still felt a bit funny.

Antonin furrowed his brow after he shook hands with Howard and Susan after introducing himself to the pair of them. “Hermione, hello. I guess I didn’t even realize it was your firm I would be coming to.” His arm wrapped tentatively around her shoulders as he pulled her into a side hug. 

Could this day possibly get any more interesting?

It wasn’t that she disliked Antonin; it had been horribly awkward between them over the past week and a half since he’d caught her and Finn in the act. They were slowly getting better, but it was clear they both attempted to avoid one another when possible save for a companionable silence with minimal small talk while they drank their coffee in peace. Hermione suspected it was inconvenient for Antonin now that she was over at their place all of the time. She was still a bit mortified over what exactly he saw and was having trouble tamping down her attraction for a man who was _not_ her boyfriend.

Hermione watched as Susan licked her bottom lip and the other witch’s eyes drew over Antonin’s body appreciatively. 

No. _Absolutely_ not.

A sharp pang of jealousy ripped through her and she impulsively pulled Antonin into a full hug and absolutely _did not_ think about how she rather liked the way his arms felt when they wrapped around her torso.

As she pulled away, she kept her eyes trained on Susan who was openly staring at Antonin’s arse and completely missed the blush that spread over Antonin’s cheeks. 

He cleared his throat, “So uh—My supervisor… he mentioned that you needed a consultant for a very high profile case?” 

Hermione noticed him trying to avoid her gaze, but as he made eye contact with Susan the look on his face paled instantly. The witch's eyes had darkened and she was tapping one finger against her purposefully pouted lip while her other arm was folded beneath her breasts as if to draw his eye to her chest. Hermione had to fight the urge to roll her eyes though she called Susan several names in her mind. 

As Howard began talking, Hermione only caught every third word, certainly not enough to process what he was saying since she was entirely focused on Antonin. His hands were flexing, curling and uncurling his fists and he shifted back and forth on his feet. Small beads of sweat had formed along his brow and his jaw was working as if he were grinding his teeth. She wasn’t certain anyone else had noticed, based on the sultry look on Susan’s face and the fact that Howard never actually looked at anyone when he spoke to them. It certainly piqued her curiosity as to why he was so—

“If you agree, Hermione, we can start straight away,” Howard said, and Hermione was caught completely unawares when she realized that everyone in the room was looking to her for confirmation. 

_Shite._

“Oh, of course, yes! Right away.” Hermione really hoped that no one noticed how strained her voice was when she squeaked out her reply, warmth colouring her cheeks. 

Howard slapped the table in obnoxious excitement, a wide toothy grin on his beady-eyed face. “Wonderful. It’s settled! We’ll regroup next Friday before the trial. I won’t be expecting to meet with you until then, which leaves us a week and a half or so to get things done.” He turned to her, eyes focused just to the left on her hair or possibly something over her shoulder, she never could be sure with Howard. “Hermione if you need to use your home office for these meetings, please be my guest. Owl me if you need to.” 

Antonin cleared his throat. “Sir, I think it would be best if we were here in the firm, for... you know Hermione’s sake. It’s hard to shut off work if you—you work from home.” 

Working from home would be a nightmare. There were too many distractions and if she and Antonin were to try and work there, she couldn't imagine how often Finn would simply pop over. “I agree, we should stay in the office. I will have Astoria clear my schedule and we can begin first thing tomorrow.” 

Antonin nodded in confirmation and Howard reached out to shake both of their hands, muttering something about a valuable partnership and how grateful they were to have the curse-breaker on board. 

Susan’s hands curled around Hermione’s upper arms as she leaned in to kiss the air by her cheeks with that sickly sweet smile she always wore. Hermione hid her grimace behind her own smile and had to stifle a laugh when Susan leaned in to hug Antonin and he forced his hand out for a handshake instead.

“Sorry, dear. I’m a bit of a hugger,” Susan cooed as she slipped her hand into Antonin’s. Hermione didn’t miss the way Susan’s thumb swiped across Antonin’s hand and how his eyes widened slightly.

_Probably wants to cut that hand off now. I know I would. Stupid cow._

Antonin uncomfortably shifted in place, “Ms. Bones, please I insist. It’s—personal, I’m sure you understand.” 

Hermione stifled a laugh as Susan’s heels clicked on the hardwoods with just a touch too much force followed by Howard. “Forgive her, she’s a bit of a— you know what, nevermind. Just steer clear of her, she’s bad news.” 

Antonin tugged at his tie and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over his arm. “I ran across a spell once in a book I found at a library in Prague that allowed the caster to see through someone’s clothing to what’s underneath. I have a feeling she’s managed to read the same book. It’s a bit unsettling, really.” 

Susan forcing Antonin to feel objectified and uncomfortable just made Hermione angry. Even if Antonin was ridiculously attractive, no one should be made to feel that way, let alone someone who mattered to her. Antonin was her boyfriend’s best friend and her feelings on the matter had absolutely nothing to do with the pixies flitting about in her stomach. 

She hid her anger in a laugh and apologized. “I’m so sorry, she’s awful, truly.” They walked down the hall to her office as she pointed out various points of interest such as the kitchen and the loo. She introduced Antonin to Astoria and asked her to clear her schedule for the week which the witch seemed just a bit too happy to do. Evidently, she’d need to fend off every witch in the office this week while he was going to be working with her. 

“I can set a notice-me-not on my office door so we won’t be bothered and the floo in my office is already keyed to your flat,” she gestured to the large fireplace centered between the bookshelves on one wall of her office. “We can come together—er... _arrive_ together, I mean.” 

Her cheeks grew warm as they coloured pink and Hermione didn’t miss the way Antonin diverted his eyes immediately to the floor, fidgeting with his cufflinks. One of these days, she knew they would look back on this and laugh, but for now their embarrassment over exactly what he’d seen was still too fresh. 

“Yeah—yeah that sounds good. Can I? Use your floo—now that is?” She liked the way he blushed just a little bit too much. “I’d rather not be alone in the hall at the moment.”

“I can’t say I blame you—” Hermione chuckled, gesturing towards the pot of powder sitting on the mantle, “—and of course.” 

With a nod, he crossed the small space of her office, the scent of his cologne wafting into the air and making her feel just a bit dizzy. She shifted on her feet and her thighs pressed together, reminding her exactly _who_ she was dating and it wasn’t the man in her office. 

He paused just before his hand reached for the powder. “Oh, Hermione? We should probably tell Thorfinn when you get home, don’t want him to feel like we are hiding anything.” 

Her eyes snapped up to his and her hands crossed over her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “Of course. We can tell him over dinner?” Her teeth captured her bottom lip. She was supposed to see Finn later, but she didn’t want Antonin to think she was imposing since the three of them had yet to share a meal. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t just invite myself over like that. Is that alright—for me to stay for dinner?” 

Antonin smiled meekly. “Sure, no problem. I’ll see you at home—I mean at my flat.” 

Hermione lifted her hand in an awkward wave as he passed through the green flames and out of her office.

…...

Finn seemed almost ecstatic that she and Antonin were working together, but by the end of dinner, neither of them seemed to share his enthusiasm, but the tension soon faded as they slipped into a comfortable routine. Since they were able to floo directly into her office, there were no awkward glances from anyone else in the office or whispers about why they were arriving together. For that, at least, she was thankful. 

She couldn’t help but marvel at how intelligent and passionate Antonin was. Having him as a consultant on her case truly made everything that much easier, she felt more prepared for court then she ever had been. She even found herself glad that Susan had given her this bit of extra work, especially when she caught the ginger witch sulking when she went to make a cup of tea.

Working seamlessly with him didn’t stop at the office; Hermione opted to stay at their flat most nights because it was easier to get ready for work and leave at the same time than it was to get ready at her own flat and apparate over. She might go to bed with Finn’s arms wrapped around her, but once she untangled herself from his embrace and showered, she had coffee and breakfast with Antonin as they planned out their day. The domesticity of it all made Hermione’s complicated feelings for the man even more confusing. 

Simple things made her heart pound and her stomach twist in uncomfortable longing like accidentally brushing hands while cooking. More often than not, she ended up sandwiched between Thorfinn and Antonin when they watched movies on the sofa, sharing a tub of buttered popcorn between them. Hermione even wondered if fate was pushing them together with how often they managed to meet in the hallway going to and from the washroom, sharing lingering looks and flushed cheeks between them. 

Her feelings for Antonin were especially conflicting because she _absolutely_ adored Finn and he doted on her constantly. She certainly wasn’t starved for attention and she’d _never_ been one to pine after someone else when she was in a relationship. In fact, she was more than satisfied sexually and her emotions surrounding her boyfriend were only growing. It was still early in their relationship, but there was just something so effortless and _right_ about being with Finn.

But her feelings for Antonin felt different. Whenever he was near, it was as if the air around them was vibrating with energy. The sheer intensity of it set her on edge and she couldn’t pinpoint whether it was simply sexual tension following their first encounter or if it was something more. It didn’t feel sinister, more like something needed to resolve so a harmony could breakthrough… but no matter what she or Antonin did, the energy only increased.

Their collaboration was coming to an end with the trial set for early in the morning the next day and Howard was pleased with their progress. Being that it was the last day they would be working together in such close quarters, Hermione and Antonin spent most of their time that afternoon scouring notes and organizing stacks for any last scrap of evidence that was needed to win their case.

“Yes! I found it. Antonin come here, this is what we were looking for. I knew I saw it somewhere.” 

Antonin came around the edge of Hermione’s desk, leaning against the desk, his hands falling on each side of Hermione’s small frame as both hunched over the piece of parchment that had the answer they had been looking for over the past hour.

Their heads turned at the same time, triumphant smiles lighting up their faces and the moment she caught sight of his face, Hermione was lost in his eyes. It was as if she lost any control over her body as she gazed into those same molten chocolate pools that pushed her over the edge two weeks ago, and she leaned forward to close the distance between them.

His lips were soft and slightly chapped as she kissed him. When he didn’t immediately reciprocate, the weight of what she’d done came crashing down and she started to pull back until his hand pressed at the small of her back and his other rose to cup her cheek, pulling her against him and into his arms. 

Each press of his lips and swipe of his tongue sent crackles of lightning over her skin and down her spin as if their magic had melded as well. She basked in the feel of it, blood roaring in her ears, as her fingers wound into his impossibly soft hair. 

It was as if an ice-bath had been dropped over her when the sound of Antonin’s perfect, needy whimper reached her ears and she immediately ripped her body away. Her hand came up to cover her mouth and her chest heaved with unsteady breaths. The realization of what happened must have crashed over him as well and the look of mortification on his face at what they had done was not something she would ever forget. 

“Hermione—” 

“We shouldn’t—” 

“I know.” 

Her body flushed and everything was too warm and the desire to run was too great, but there was nowhere to go. She couldn’t stop the tears as they pooled in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she’d _done that._ Finn would probably never forgive her and she would have caused a rift between them and all of her negative feelings surrounding her own self-worth bubbled to the surface as the little voice in the back of her head berated her for being so bloody stupid. “I don’t— I don’t know what came over me. I am so sorry Antonin. Oh my god, I am so sorry.” 

And the worst thing, the absolute _worst thing,_ was that she’d practically felt all of Antonin’s emotions as he kissed her, she just knew there was something there that transcended what she’d brushed off as sexual tension. She felt it still, thrumming through her when he gathered her in his arms and brushed her tears away in a way that was so reminiscent of her boyfriend that she leaned in instead of ripping herself away like she knew she should have done. 

“Shhh, Hermione. It’s okay. He doesn’t have to know. It was an accident. It won’t happen again.” 

Gods, why did he have to comfort her and why did it have to feel like she was meant to be here, in his arms? She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. Everything just felt numb, save for the parts where their bodies connected. 

The wave of guilt coursed over her once more and she pulled back. 

She forced her features into a neutral expression, even though her voice was unsteady and the words she said warred with everything she wanted, no matter how confusing her desires were. “You should go. I’ll finish up here and then I can see you in the morning, but I think it's best if you...go.” 

She couldn't look at him as he quickly gathered his things and disappeared in a whirl of neon green flames.

Hermione closed the floo, dropped to her knees and sobbed. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

When Hermione finally left her office, going back to Finn and Antonin’s flat seemed like the absolute worst idea possible. She quickly penned a letter, citing that she still had a lot to do in order to be ready to face the Wizengamot tomorrow morning and needed space to concentrate. Of course, the entire letter was a fabrication. She was completely ready for her trial tomorrow but she couldn’t bear to face Finn knowing she’d acted like a complete trollop a few hours before when she’d snogged his best friend. 

Finn had been nothing but kind and wonderful to her in the short time they had been dating and she’d gone and spoiled everything. Hermione knew she would need to face her boyfriend at some point, but she couldn’t do it when her lips still felt swollen and her body still craved something she absolutely shouldn’t want. 

Her desire for Antonin made little sense. 

She was perfectly happy with Finn. 

What on earth would have possessed her to kiss someone else, in her office no less? She was  _ not _ like Susan Bones, thank you very much. 

The moment she sent the lie laden letter off, she floo’d home and immediately disconnected her hearth from the network. The last thing she needed was Finn being the perfect gentleman he was and bringing her dinner or dessert as an excuse to kiss her goodnight. 

She set a few extra locking charms on the front door for good measure. 

Being in her flat felt strange. She’d barely spent any time in her own space over the past week and a half but now, walking amongst her own things without Finn hovering in the living room or knowing she was just passing through to pack a quick bag, it didn’t feel comforting. It almost felt...  _ empty _ . 

She brushed off the feeling, chiding herself for being foolish as she stripped off her work clothes and tossed everything into the hamper. With a flick of her wand, the washroom filled with steam as hot water sprayed from the showerhead, droplets bursting to life against the tiles. 

The hot spray and the feeling of her fingers pulling shampoo through her curls only reminded her of Finn and how many showers and baths they had shared. She washed the soap from her hair and body and exited the shower as quickly as possible. 

As she toweled her body off, the weight of her kiss with Antonin settled in her body and the subtle ache in her chest stopped her in her tracks. Just before the tears welling in her eyes began rolling down her cheeks she received a text from Draco. 

**Draco:** See you tomorrow? We will want to celebrate your victory on the case. All of us, even Potter and Pansy. 

She smiled, thankful for her friend’s innate ability to distract her from the things in her life that bothered her. Maybe a couple of nights away from Finn—and Antonin was exactly what she needed. She quickly typed out a response: 

**Hermione:** That sounds wonderful. I’ll meet you at your place after work tomorrow. 

**Draco:** Plan to be here at 7!

Hermione locked her mobile and slipped into a pair of joggers and an oversized jumper. She thought about just curling her hair into a bun and sleeping with it wet, but decided to at least attempt to dry it first. 

She worked the Muggle hair cream between her hands before pulling her fingers through her curls, massaging the cream throughout. She could perform the charm wandlessly and wordlessly, but the feel of the vinewood in her hand was comforting and so, she pointed her wand at her hair and quietly cast the spell. When she glanced back at the mirror, her curls were not the perfect, sleek spiral she expected but were frizzy and tangled, reminiscent of her first seven years at Hogwarts before Daphne took it upon herself to teach her proper beauty charms during eighth year. 

She grunted in frustration and tried again. Her voice was clear and the wand movement precise as she swirled the wand over the crown of her head. 

Her curls puffed outward at least two centimeters.

Grabbing an elastic, Hermione tied the frizzy mess into a haphazard bun and resolved to deal with it in the morning when she wasn’t so emotionally drained. After stepping into her bedroom, she pulled her magic to the tips of her fingers and waved her hand to extinguish the lights in the ensuite.

Hermione screamed as the electricity from the bulbs surged and each one shattered, raining miniscule bits of glass over the counters and floor in the washroom. 

The pads of her fingers found her temples and a disgruntled sigh rushed over her lips. “Just bloody great.” 

She closed the door, flicked off the lights to her room at the switch and crawled into bed. 

Another problem to deal with in the morning. 

* * *

Hermione was exhausted. 

Sleep had not come easy. Her mind would not settle as thoughts and images of Finn and Antonin swirled behind her eyelids. She could hear the anger and hurt in Thorfinn’s voice when she imagined telling him she’d kissed his best mate and see conflict in Antonin’s eyes as he stood by, waiting for everything that happened between them to be out in the open. 

Even when she had  _ finally _ managed to fall asleep, she dreamt of the two of them—lovely dreams filled with laughter, trips to the continent, and a  _ life _ together. It wasn’t surprising that she woke up with tears in her eyes because while it was a lovely dream, she would be lucky if she were to salvage any manner of friendship between herself and the two wizards. 

As if that weren’t enough, her magic was not behaving properly. She’d had more bursts of accidental magic and spells going wrong, it was as if she were a first year again. 

The charm to send the careful stacks of paper on her desk into her satchel tore each bit of parchment to shreds. 

Summoning the already prepared cold brew from the fridge, the cup arrived empty and a small river of coffee was running over the hardwoods. 

Beauty charms? She’d ended up with make-up so outlandish it might have been considered abstract art. 

Even another attempt at taming her curls just left them snarled and frizzed. 

At that point, she gave up. There was no saving the shredded parchment, so she showered again and fixed her hair the Muggle way, mopped up the coffee stream, and reapplied her make-up by hand. She barely had time to dress before she was due in the office, meaning she was starting her day without coffee and breakfast.

It was a very real possibility that today was the day she would tell Susan what a stupid bint she was. 

The only explanation she could come up with was that she must be coming down with something. She called Daphne to cancel the night out the moment her trial ended and she’d accidentally set a stack of parchment on fire as she was leaving the courtroom. 

Daphne answered on the first ring, her voice coming through bright and cheerful over the receiver. “Hermione! Congrats, love! We are so excited to celebrate with you.” 

Hermione sighed, dropping into her office chair and slowly unpacking her satchel by hand. “Thanks Daph, but I don’t think I am going to make it. I think I am coming down with a virus or something. My magic has been on the fritz since last night and can’t get it under control.” She tucked her favorite quill into its place next to the inkwell. “I’m utterly exhausted.” 

Daphne made a pitiful whine on the other end of the line before she perked up once more. “We won’t make you use your magic! We will do it for you. Come on! You have to. We only have a week until Pansy is due and you know we won’t see them again until Albie is two. Come on, Hermione!” Hermione could just hear the rustle of Daphne moving around over the receiver and imagined the theatrical gestures the witch was known for when she was trying to get her way. The mere thought of Daphne’s hands waving about brought a smile to her face. 

“That’s not true. She’ll threaten us within an inch of our lives if we’re not at the hospital for the birth, not to mention that you and Draco will have James for a few days.” Hermione laughed softly, “Plus, this is Pansy we are talking about. She can’t be locked in the house with the babies  _ and _ Harry for longer than, what… Maybe eight days without needing a break.” 

“It’s probably closer to six. Hold on—” Hermione could hear muffled shouting in the background. “Sorry. Draco says to tell Hermione to ‘get her arse down here’. He means business. He went all out for you tonight. If you disappoint him, I’ll tell him you finally agreed to let Magda deep clean your flat and cook your meals… without pay.”

If there was one thing Hermione and Draco fought over more than anything else, it was whether or not house elves deserved wages for their services and while she didn’t mind a bit of help from their sweet house elf on special occasions, payment was something Hermione would always insist upon. “Fine, but I’m not staying out all night, I need to get at least some rest.” 

“It’s Friday! You can sleep when you’re dead,” Daphne chuckled, evidently amused at her own joke. “See you soon!” 

“Daph— Wait!”

“What?”

Hermione tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder, spreading the files from her satchel over her desk for filing later. “If I am going out, I’m going to need you to do my hair and makeup. It's been so long since I have done it the Muggle way, and judging by my efforts this morning, I’ve forgotten quite a bit.” 

Daphne laughed loudly on the other side. “Come dressed with your hair wet and I’ll help you. See you soon.” 

“See you soon.” 

* * *

“Bloody fuck!” Antonin yelled as he set yet another pan of potatoes on fire. 

The pounding of Finn’s feet on the hardwoods prefaced his arrival into the kitchen as Antonin roughly scraped the blackened potatoes into the bin. “You’ve been doing an awful lot of yelling lately, mate. Everything alright?” 

“Everything I touch turns to fucking shite lately. I’m just—” he tossed the pan in the sink, “I need to go on vacation or something.” The unintended double-entendre reminded him that it was not just his magic, but that Hermione had managed to avoid his best friend for three days. Thorfinn, of course, didn’t know she was avoiding him, but Antonin knew better and every time Finn voiced his displeasure at her absence, he’d had to bite his tongue to keep his own in check.

Having not seen her for three days after spending hours with her each day for a week made something within him feel unsettled. It was almost as if he were continually nauseated and she was a bottle of that awful pink Muggle shite that Finn swore by. The feeling only seemed to lift when he was able to sleep, and even then the memories of her soft body pressed against him plagued his dreams. 

Finn’s brow furrowed in concern as he leaned over the island, resting his weight on his forearms. “Then why don’t you just go somewhere and take a break for a couple of weeks? When was the last time you even took time off? It’s long overdue.” 

“I don’t think I have taken a Holiday since I was a kid. But honestly, work is the only thing that I can’t mess up, that I am good at.” Antonin turned away from Finn and flicked the water on in the sink to set the pan to soak.

He could hear the confusion in Finn’s voice as he poured soap into the water—the last time he’d attempted a scouring charm, he’d managed to put a hole in the bottom of one of their sautée pans. “What else have you messed up? You are usually careful about everything.” 

He just should tell Finn what had happened between Hermione and himself. He’d tried for days to force the words over his tongue. It was as if they were stuck in his throat, like he wanted to keep the secret of kissing Finn’s witch to himself for just a bit longer because then he might be able to pretend for the space of a daydream that she was  _ his _ . 

“Having my magic act out, it’s just... really unsettling. Maybe I am getting sick.” He turned off the water with a grimace. “I’ll just pop down to the takeaway place down the street and grab dinner. I don’t want to set the flat on fire.” 

“Alright, mate.” Antonin missed the concerned look as he grabbed his coat and attempted to disapparate out of the flat only to end up back in the sitting room. 

“What the actual fuck…” Antonin’s hands clenched into fists as he released a string of curses in his native tongue and walked out the rarely-used door instead, the slam of the door causing the flat to shake. 

* * *

Finn sighed, running his fingers through his hair before twisting it up into a bun at the back of his head. Antonin hadn’t been this out of sorts in years—not since just after the war ended and they were both fucked up over everything they’d had to do in service to a madman. Magical probation and mandated therapy had helped as well as a few nights spent in a tattoo parlour surrounding the marks they bore with ink. Nothing would ever truly erase the damned thing, but now his was at least masked in a field of flowers and Antonin’s in an intricate geometric pattern.

Still, it was rare to see Antonin so uncontrolled and angry. He’d always been stoic, even as Finn had wormed his way into Antonin’s life as a child, forcing the young Russian to come out of his shell just a bit, but this instability was distinctly unsettling. 

The worst thing was that Finn had no idea how to help Antonin or even what was wrong, really. He hadn’t exactly been great company for the past three days since Hermione had been busy. Rationally, Finn knew that he wouldn’t see her every day, but the first two weeks of their relationship had been bliss, falling asleep with her tucked against him and waking up the same way. It was a bit of domestic bliss he’d never given thought to before, but now that it was gone, he craved it. 

There was something that came to life inside of him when she was around and, having been separated from her for three days, it was as if his magic lived on the surface of his skin instead of in his core. Nothing felt right, and Thorfinn couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like that before. 

He missed his witch.

In a bid to calm his nerves while he waited for Antonin to return with dinner, Finn filled the teapot with water from the tap and cast a simple heating spell over it after setting it back on the stove. Just as he did so, the teapot exploded, sending the cool water inside all over him and the nearby kitchen surfaces. 

His eyes darted around nervously as he retrieved the piece of twisted metal from the floor. “Is this a joke?” 

He tossed the mangled teapot into the bin and pulled off his soaked shirt and trousers. Quickly changing into something dry, he grabbed his coat and made his exit through the front door, hoping he could catch up with Antonin and they just could eat at the takeaway counter.

Finn made a note to engage a specialist who could reset the wards on their flat. It was the only explanation he could think of for why both of their magic seemed to be out of sorts.

* * *

Hermione returned from her night out with friends to an owl waiting at the window. True to her word, Daphne hadn’t been lying when she said that Draco had gone “all out.” All in all, it had been a fun evening of good food, laughter, and a bit of dancing; just the sort of distraction she needed after the day she’d had. She’d abstained from any alcohol out of respect for her heavily pregnant friend, not because it made her think of how she and Finn had ended up together in the first place. No, definitely not because of that. 

She unrolled the parchment after giving the owl a treat and drew a deep breath when she noticed her boyfriends’ characteristic slanted penmanship: 

_ Hermione,  _

_ I hear congrats are in order after winning your case. I want to take you to dinner. I miss you. Not seeing you for three whole days is killing me. Send your response with the owl.  _

_ XOXXXXXXX _

_ Finn _

Hermione sighed, kicking off her heels and leaving them by the window as she padded over to her desk. She couldn’t avoid Finn forever. 

Every night she’d fallen into bed alone hadn’t seemed right, but it was the weight of her guilt that kept her away. She wasn’t going to be one of those women who take sordid secrets to their grave. No. Finn deserved to know and even though he might end their relationship over her mistake, she hoped he would give her a second chance. Even if something small in the back of her mind reminded her that Antonin probably cared about her too. She couldn’t let herself think about Antonin and so she plucked a quill from the drawer in her desk and penned a reply. 

  
  


_ Finn,  _

_ Dinner sounds wonderful. I miss you too. Tell me when and where and I’ll meet you.  _

_ Kisses,  _

_ HG _

A slow smile crept over her lips when the owl returned within the hour, the location and time for the same restaurant they’d gone to for their first date scribbled onto a small scrap of parchment. Her cheeks heated when she remembered what exactly happened in that secluded booth before her mood dipped once more when she found herself thankful for the discretion the restaurant offered. It would be good to discuss what happened at a place where they would not be disturbed. 

Sleep was difficult to find once more as her mind played over exactly how she was going to tell her boyfriend that she’d snogged his best friend… and worse, that she liked it. 

After a few hours of restless sleep, Hermione gave up. She tossed the duvet aside and lit several candles since she’d yet to replace the shattered bulbs in her lavatory in preparation for showering and going about her day. In the flickering of the light, Hermione’s fingers traced the line of the silvery scar bisecting her chest, sucking in a sharp breath when she realized it was sensitive to the touch. The sensitivity of it had faded over time, but in the candlelight she could just make out the inflammation surrounding the slightly raised flesh. It felt warm and as if it were pulsating beneath her fingers, much like a heartbeat. 

Hermione knew that for Muggles, it was common to get skin infections and have it feel painful and hot, but this scar was fifteen years old. It was impossible for it to become infected after that long. Merlin knew she didn’t dare try to reduce the inflammation with one of the many healing spells she knew since she would probably end up with a hole in her chest for her efforts. Instead, she chose to rub some Muggle antibiotic cream into it after her shower and even went so far as to reapply the cream over lunch before rushing off to another meeting. 

As she dressed for the evening out with Finn, Hermione found herself once again tracing her fingers over the scar lining her chest. It was still inflamed, the silvery mark lined with red along the edges. She ultimately decided against a glamour charm, and while she hoped Finn wouldn’t notice how irritated it was, she knew he had mapped out her body so well over the last two weeks that she was willing to wager the second he removed her shirt, he would figure it out―if it even took him that long. 

She finished dressing and walked out of the door, muttering about uncooperative magic and having to walk instead of apparate. 

At the very least, the short stroll to the restaurant gave her time to clear her head, though it was muddled again almost immediately when she found not only Finn, but Antonin as well waiting outside of the restaurant. When her eyes met Antonin’s, a look of panic crossed his features before Finn stepped into her line of sight. 

The rioting butterflies in her stomach and feeling of overwhelming anxiety in her core were threaded through with something akin to joy. It was as if her magic was thrumming in her veins as she moved closer to the waiting wizards. She chalked it up to the fact she was nervous to see Antonin and to tell Finn what happened. 

Hermione greeted Finn with a smile and stepped into his waiting arms. His hand skated over her curves until he threaded his fingers through hers while the other remained at the small of her back. He placed a gentle kiss to her lips, murmuring against them, “Have I told you that you are absolutely gorgeous lately?” 

She squeezed his hand, sinking into the sweet familiarity to ease her nerves. “It’s been a little while.” 

He feathered a kiss along her knuckles before cupping her face with his palms, thumbs stroking along the curve of her cheeks. “Well, you should be told every second of every day how beautiful you are.” He gently tugged her forward and placed another sweet kiss against her lips. 

They broke apart just as the hostess called for them to be seated, escorting them through the crowded restaurant and to one of the secluded horseshoe-shaped booths in the back. Hermione ended up sandwiched between the two wizards as they faded into obscurity from the rest of the patrons. 

Shortly after they ordered, Finn excused himself to the loo, and Hermione barely waited until he was out of earshot before she turned to Antonin.” _ What  _ are you doing here?” She really hadn’t expected to find Antonin present on what she thought was her date with Finn. It wasn’t that she minded really, but it was already proving awkward enough with the guilt coursing through her veins and trying to act as if everything was fine until she worked up her courage. 

“He told me we were going out for dinner—something is off with the wards in our flat so cooking has proven... challenging. I tried to decline once he mentioned you’d be here but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Threatened to dress me himself if I wasn’t ready in ten.”

Hermione’s teeth sunk into her lower lip. “I have to tell him. The guilt of our—of what happened is eating me alive.” 

Antonin took a long, slow pull from his pint he’d ordered and sighed, “Hermione, please, just not… not tonight. We can tell him this week. Just—he’s so excited to see you.” Hermione could just make out the way his hands were wringing his napkin in his lap out of her periphery. 

“But—” 

His hand hovered over her forearm for just a moment before he gently pressed his palm on her skin, sending a cooling wave rushing up and over her shoulder to trickle down her back. “Just let him have this time with you. He’s going to be upset when we tell him and he needs to spend time with you…you’ve been good for him, and he needs this. He’s been a mess for the past few days,  _ please _ .” 

The rebuttal poised on her lips fell away with the intensity of his gaze. She slowly nodded, not daring to pull her arm away from his touch. “I… I won’t tell him tonight, but he needs to know, Antonin. This isn’t something I’m willing to withhold forever and the longer we wait, the worse it will be.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like a dense fog in the middle of spring, when Antonin withdrew his hand from her arm and nodded, “I understand.” 

His eyes trailed over her in a way that made her shift uncomfortably in her seat. It was as if he were memorizing each tiny freckle dotting her cheeks as though he would never get a chance to see them again. Why did the weight of his eyes on her body feel  _ so _ right?

* * *

As the night wore on, despite Finn’s easy demeanor and attempts at keeping the conversation light, the atmosphere surrounding the three of them only seemed to grow more tense. 

Hermione’s smiles failed to reach her eyes while Antonin kept his attention firmly on his beer in a bid to keep his jealousy tamped down at each small show of affection between his best friend and the witch who was most definitely  _ not _ Antonin’s girlfriend. He was reminded of that with each playful tug to Hermione’s curls or kiss to her temple that Finn bestowed. 

He was happy for them, truly, but Merlin knew he wanted her for himself. From the moment he saw her fall apart, he’d coveted her, and no matter how much he’d tried to tamp those feelings down and tell himself that Hermione wasn’t meant for him, the draw to her only increased. 

When he’d laid his hand on her, it felt like fire igniting in his veins even as he begged her not to tell Finn what had transpired between them. In the days since Hermione had been away, his normally cheerful best friend had been sullen and moody. Antonin had never seen Finn like that over a witch and it was yet another reminder that the beautiful woman laughing next to him was not meant for him, but for his best friend. It had been a clever thing to tell Finn to hold off on bringing him into their bed, because Antonin would not have wanted to leave, especially now that he knew the softness of her body and the sweet taste of her lips. 

She was like a euphoria potion that he could never get enough of and so, when her leg accidentally brushed against his under the table, he excused himself to the loo in a bid to compose himself and gain control of the feelings that were spiraling from his control. 

Turning on the tap with a flick of his wrist, Antonin splashed cool water over his face and nearly slammed his forehead against the mirror in surprise when Finn threw open the door to the loo and wandlessly locked it behind him. 

“What the fuck is your problem, mate?” Anger crackled around his best friend like fiendfyre, blindingly hot and out of control. 

“Finn—” 

“No fuck that, I don’t want your excuses. Hermione has been nothing but nice to you since you officially met and you can’t be bothered to give her the time of day? Some friend you are.” 

Antonin ripped a towel from the dispenser and dried his face. “Thorfinn, listen to me. I’m  _ trying _ , I really am, it’s just—”

“I get it, you have a history, but don’t try to push her away. I really  _ fucking _ like this girl. I don’t want her to leave because of  _ you _ .” Finn’s hands were curled into fists at his side, the muscles of his forearms flexing, and Antonin could nearly see the anger rippling off of him as if it were a palpable thing. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the receiving end of a punch thrown in anger, but since he wanted to make sure that both he and Finn made it out of the loo without facial contusions, he put some space between them, backing away to the other side of the small washroom. 

“Finn. It’s not what you think.” Antonin ran his fingers through his hair, mussing the usually tidy coif. “I like Hermione, I really do. She is a great match for you, and it’s obvious you two are incredibly in tune with one another.” A seer would probably tell them they were soulmates with the way they orbited one another. It was almost as if his magic already knew her. Like they were destined.

His jaw clenched and he ran his hand over his face, forcing the words he hadn’t wanted to admit outloud over his lips, but there was no other way Antonin could think to explain away his and Hermione’s awkward interactions unless he told Finn about the kiss they had shared. “It’s just that I  _ like _ her.” 

Finn’s anger cooled to a healthy dose of skepticism when Antonin looked him in the eye. “You said that twice, Ant. What the fuck are you trying to say?” 

Antonin shifted on his feet and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, a rush of breath leaving his mouth as the words tumbled over his tongue. “I fucking fancy her, okay? I feel like the world’s biggest tosser because you’re my best mate and she’s  _ your girl _ , but my magic—it… it’s  _ reaching _ for her. I can’t help it… I’ve—I’ve tried. I’m sorry. And after last week, I just—I need to tell you something.” 

Gods, he hoped both of them would forgive him, especially since he’d begged Hermione to keep the secret for just a bit longer.

“What?” The irritation was clear on Finn’s face as Antonin forced himself to look his best friend in the eye. 

“On Thursday night, before I came home from work for the day, I—I was with her in her office and I...” he paused, taking a deep breath and exhaling the words on a rush of air. “I— I kissed her. I shouldn’t have, but I did.” 

He’d hoped the kiss they shared would quell his desire for the witch but it had only served to ignite the flickering flame into a raging inferno. Even sitting next to her in that gods-be-damned booth was damn near akin to torture. 

He should have felt better for putting it out in the open, but he still felt like utter shite. 

A myriad of emotions flickered in Finn’s eyes until he bit his lower lip and cleared his throat as if he couldn’t process what Antonin had just told him. “I’m sorry, you... You kissed—you kissed  _ my  _ girlfriend?” Finn’s tone steadily increased with each word, his irritation, and anger flowing from him in waves. 

“She wanted to tell you and I told her to wait, I’m so sorry. I’ve felt like a fucking  _ kusok der'ma _ for days. I  _ fuck _ —I’m sorry, Finn.” 

Finn drew up to his full height, his shoulders rolling back and fury blazing in his eyes as his hand cut through the air in a furious slice. “No. I can’t accept it, not after you telling me you fucking _ fancy _ her.” He paused, his hand running over his face in exasperation. “A kiss? A  _ bloody  _ kiss? I would be less offended if you had told me that you shagged her on her desk. A  _ kiss _ is intimate Antonin, really fucking  _ intimate.”  _

Antonin watched as the fingers of Finn’s hands flexed, knowing full well that his friend was right. Kissing a witch was intimate. In the society in which he had grown up, kisses weren’t shared until a courtship had been arranged, and even though formal courtships were rarely carried through with anymore, he knew as well as Thorfinn did that it was one thing to bed a witch, but it was something else entirely to kiss one. 

Finn shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “You went behind my back and kissed  _ my _ girlfriend. I just—I cannot  _ fucking _ believe you.” 

“I know there is nothing I can say that will make it right, but I am sorry. It wasn’t something we ever meant to happen.” 

A thick fog of tension surrounded them as they stared at each other, life-long friends at an impasse over a witch who’d only been in their lives for a few short weeks. It was unthinkable.

Finn’s fingers grazed the scruff on his cheek before swiping over his brow and down his face. “So... what, you want to fuck her?” 

That… wasn’t what he had expected Finn to say, but  _ gods, yes.  _ He wanted to explore and taste every single inch of her body until he had memorized the feel of her… but he also wanted more, and that, in and of itself, was terrifying. 

“Yes—no? I don’t know. I’ll get over it eventually, I just need some time.” 

“I see. Well, she fancies you too.” 

Wait,  _ what?  _ The calm way Finn spoke about this was a dangerous contrast to the anger he displayed earlier. It made the hairs on the back of Antonin’s neck stand on end.

“Finn—” 

“No—” Antonin’s mouth snapped shut. “Shut up and listen to me. Maybe you two have some disconnected bond because of that curse. Merlin  _ knows _ the magic is still coursing through it.”

The… magic? There was absolutely no way there should have been any residual magic from the curse, no matter if he had been silenced while casting it. 

“What are you getting at?” Antonin roughly pulled his fingers through his hair. This entire night was turning out to be an absolute clusterfuck between having to sit through dinner next to Hermione feeling his magic soothe in her presence without being able to so much as touch her, to being at odds with his best friend over something that never should have happened in the first place, and now having to hear about how that gods-be-damned curse had harmed their witch.

“That scar, it runs right over one of her tits and cuts down toward her hip like someone took a knife and sliced her clean.” Antonin closed his eyes, forcing down the nausea that was welling in his belly as Finn continued. “When I ran my tongue over it, she all but jumped off the bed and came so hard she nearly passed out. Could be that your magic is linked to her because of that curse, and that is why she reacted the way she did that first night, but it’s really not fucking difficult to see the way you two make  _ eyes  _ at each other.” 

It couldn’t be. His magic couldn’t still be linked to her after so many years, the odds of it were astounding. “So, what are you trying to say, Finn?” 

“I don’t know. Before you told me about kissing her I was going to say maybe you just need to fuck it out and get it over with, but I’ll be damned if you think you are going to after  _ your little _ confession.”

This protectiveness over a witch from Finn was new, but Antonin couldn’t say it was unfounded. They’d shared witches before but nothing so complicated as emotions had ever come between them. Why this witch? 

He swallowed harshly, doubting that ‘fucking it out’ would have the desired effect, but the images of getting to touch her and watch her sweet release at his own hand that played through the forefront of his mind made him long for that moment. 

Antonin crossed the short space, deliberately placing himself within reach of his best friend, knowing he deserved any bit of physical violence Thorfinn deemed fit, but it never came. “We should go back out there before she thinks we left her.” He reached for the handle of the door, only to have Finn slam his palm against the wood, keeping them in the washroom for a moment longer

“If you ever touch her again, I will hex your cock right off. Do you understand me?” 

“I’ll hex it off myself,” he muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is following along with our weekly updates! With this chapter, we are now over half-way to the end of Praises! Your comments, speculation, and encouragement bring smiles to our faces and we appreciate your feedback! 
> 
> Major shout-out to our team of Alphas and Betas who help make this story so much better!

The door to the loo slammed open and Finn stalked back to their table. His stride was quick and purposeful as each and every emotion he’d felt over the past ten minutes coursed through him like Fiendfyre in a forest. The rage, jealousy, disappointment, and debilitating sadness threatened to consume the canopy and burn the entire ecosystem to the ground if he couldn’t get himself under control.

It wasn’t as though she was just  _ some witch _ he was biding his time with. She wasn’t just a witch he’d brought home for a good time and then never saw again. No, he was falling for her. Hard. Even after just a few short weeks of being together, he considered himself head over heels for the woman and knew he could easily  _ fall in love _ if given the chance. 

His heart was only content when she was around, and even now as he approached the table, he felt his emotions soothe a bit. Her mere presence was calming, like a balm to a wound, but he needed to address the situation. 

He sat down forcefully into the booth, as the witch next to him tensed while he attempted to compose himself. When he looked up from the tablecloth, he saw Hermione and Antonin exchange a look which made everything he had been feeling bubble up and threaten to boil over once more. Just seeing them sitting next to one another was upsetting, no matter how much space Antonin had managed to put between himself and Hermione as he sat just at the edge of the obscurity charms. 

Finn cleared his throat and just as he was about to give them both a piece of his mind, Hermione placed a gentle hand on his forearm. He instantly felt his anger soothe as the soft pads of her fingers brushed across his skin, which only served to increase his ire. How was it possible she had that much of an effect on him? Never in his life had a witch held such sway over him. He may have been marked for the Dark Lord, but he would set the world on fire to spend five minutes in her presence. It made no sense.

“Thorfinn—“

“Oh, it’s Thorfinn now is it?” He snatched his arm away from her grasp, the anger within him igniting once more and threatening to bubble over like an unwatched cauldron.. 

“Finn, listen to me. I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have kissed him.” Hermione’s voice cracked, her hand settling on the table as if she didn’t know what to do with it. 

Finn pursed his lips, glancing at Antonin who was looking down at his clasped hands on the table before he looked back to Hermione. Gods, she looked a mess and he had to push down all of the feelings inside of him that urged him to comfort her until she smiled again. “Antonin here told me he kissed you. I’m getting two different stories, and it’s really unsettling that either my girlfriend or my best friend is lying to me.” 

Antonin sighed, “It’s me, I lied. She technically leaned in first and... I reciprocated.” 

If Finn had thought it couldn’t have gotten any worse, he was sorely mistaken. Antonin could have pushed her away, he could have refused to kiss her back, but he hadn’t. No, his best friend had made a conscious choice to kiss  _ his _ witch, knowing exactly what it would do to him, and on top of that, Antonin had  _ lied _ . 

Finn barked a laugh, his head falling into his hands in disbelief. “That’s just great, my best mate, lying to me. Wonderful.” 

“Thorfinn, I―” Antonin started, but Hermione cut him off.

“―Finn, please. Don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I can’t explain what came over me when it happened and I am so sorry. You don’t deserve this. You are wonderful—“ 

Blood rushed through Thorfinn’s ears and drowned out most of her words. He never would have put the idea into their heads that the three of them should fuck, if he’d known this would have been the consequence of it. A bit of fun with his best mate and his girl sounded like a great time, but not at the expense of feeling himself shatter knowing that both of them had gone behind his back and lied about it. 

“—You’re right, Hermione. I don’t.” He tossed a handful of galleons on the table and made a move to leave. 

He refused to turn around when he heard the sound of Hermione sniffling behind him. Thorfinn needed space to think and he knew that if he turned around and saw the look on her face that his heart would tell him to gather her in his arms and comfort her. The uneasy feeling of his magic pulsing just below his skin returned when he turned just enough to see Antonin’s gaze shifting between himself and Hermione. 

“Are you fucking coming or not, Antonin?” 

Antonin nodded, his face slipping into an unreadable expression as he moved to stand. “Yeah, I am.” 

…...

Two days after leaving Hermione at the restaurant and Thorfinn still hadn’t spoken to Antonin about what happened. His best friend gave him the space he needed to think, and although Hermione sent several owls, they sat unopened in a neat pile on the corner of his desk in the study. 

He alternated between his room and the study when Antonin was home, giving the other man a wide berth while he sorted through his thoughts. He was no longer angry, that he knew for certain, but now the feeling wrapping around his heart was a devastating combination of heartbreak and indecision. 

Two days ago, he felt like he was on the cusp of telling his girlfriend that he loved her. And now? Now he wasn’t sure where they stood.

Falling hard and fast for Hermione Granger wasn’t something he ever anticipated and the intensity of his feelings surprised him. Seeing her again, even after three days, was like coming home. It was euphoric the way her body melded against his like she was meant to be there the moment he was able to wrap his arms around her. 

But she had kept quiet about her kiss with Antonin—a lie of omission, and that was what hurt the most. He meant what he said to Antonin, kissing was  _ intimate _ . Sure, he’d kissed witches before when he’d had his cock sheathed in one, but  _ never _ when sex wasn’t involved. He was seconds away from burying his cock in his own witch when they’d shared their first kiss that morning in the shower. She should have told him the moment it happened! Hell, she never should have let it happen in the first place. 

Even knowing she could be  _ the one _ , Finn wasn’t even sure that he could continue to be in a relationship with her. But  _ fuck _ , he missed his witch. 

He missed waking up with her in his arms feeling the gentle tickle of her wild curls against his chest in the morning. He missed how perfect it felt to be inside her, bringing her to pleasure and hearing his name on her lips when she came. 

Beyond that, he missed the little things. The way her cheeks flushed when he teased her and how she played with his hair while they lounged around watching movies. The fact that she ate the burnt toast he made her with a smile. How she left his sheets smelling sweet and feminine. The spark of her intelligence glittering in her eyes as she babbled on about one of the subjects she was passionate about. That she didn’t care about his money and tried to argue her way into splitting the bill when they went out. How she looked at him as if  _ she felt it too. _

A knock on his door pulled him from his reverie and he tucked the images of Hermione away into the recesses of his mind once more. He flicked his wand silently to open the door, refusing to look towards it as he lay staring at the ceiling. 

The door slammed open forcefully and the sound of the handle punching a hole in the drywall behind it with a loud crack echoed through the room.

_ Great.  _ Another thing he would have to fix later. 

He felt the dip of the corner of his bed but refused to shift his gaze away from the rotating fan above him. 

“Mate?” 

“What do you want, Antonin?” he huffed.

“You should go see her. Work out your feelings. Decide if you are going to continue on in your relationship. If you aren’t, you can get the closure you need.” 

Even though he knew Antonin was right, that he  _ should _ go see his witch and work things out or leave her for good, he didn’t want to admit it to himself. “Why? So if I break things off you can swoop in and play the hero?” A week ago, he’d practically begged his best friend to get along with his witch and now whenever he closed his eyes, their betrayal flashed behind his eyelids. 

“Don’t be an arse. She deserves to know how you feel, good or bad. I promised you I would stay away, and I meant it. Tell me one time in the past thirty years where I haven’t kept my word.”

He couldn’t. 

“You mean more to me than any woman ever could,” Antonin said.

Finn audibly swallowed and allowed his eyes to drift to his best friend for the first time in two days. “Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean I trust you. You’ll have to earn that back.” 

A small smile crept over Antonin’s mouth as he leaned back on the bed. “I won’t let you down, I promise.” Antonin paused for a moment, the silence lingering between them heavy. “I came to tell you that I have to go away for work. I’ll probably be gone a week, but it might be longer.” 

Finns brow furrowed, “You haven’t had to travel for work in years. What changed?” 

Antonin looked away, and Finn could have sworn he was nervous, but thought better of it. He has no reason to lie about work. “Bulgarian Ministry needs a cursebreaker for something they found off in a remote village that’s making a lot of the Muggles sick. They asked for the best.” Antonin scratched at the back of his head, “Guess I should take it as a compliment.” 

Finn smirked, pride welling in his chest. “You know you are the best cursebreaker out there, you arse.” He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his best friend over the past two days he’d spent brooding. Just speaking with Antonin again, even over something as innocuous as a work trip made him feel lighter. “When do you leave?” 

Antonin sighed, “Catching my Portkey in about twenty minutes, spent most of the morning packing after I got word from Gringotts. Just didn’t want to leave without talking to you. We haven’t been separated for longer than a night or two since the last time I went away for work.” 

And even that had been more than five years ago. It was strange to think that Antonin wouldn’t be there for at least a week, maybe more. The man was more of a brother than his best friend since they’d reconnected in the ranks of the Dark Lord. They’d been inseparable once they realized they had shared comparable beginnings into the Death Eater ranks. Antonin had been in a terrible situation when the Death Eaters approached him and Thorfinn had been marked against his will. They’d been each other’s family for years. 

Finn nodded.

Antonin cleared his throat, “I really am sorry, Thorfinn. I crossed a line that should have never been crossed.” 

“I understand. I just thought Hermione and I had something different—it  _ feels _ different.” He sat up leaning his head back against the headboard. “I fucking hate being apart from her, but I feel like she betrayed me. Even knowing what happened, I still want her but I shouldn’t, should I? I can’t figure out if it would be better or worse if she’d kissed someone other than you.” 

Antonin’s brows lifted, but Thorfinn continued.

“Think about it. First, she comes while I’m inside her from just looking at you. I touch that damned scar and can feel magic practically pouring out of the thing, and then she kisses you? You tell me you  _ like _ my witch, and at this point it wouldn’t fucking surprise me if she was carrying a torch for you too. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were soulmates or some shite like Professor Arcana used to drone on about in Divination.” 

A nervous laugh bubbled up from Thorfinn’s chest. No matter how much he found Divination to be rubbish, there were too many coincidences that it made him uneasy. 

“We aren’t, mate, you know that.” Antonin’s voice was firm and Finn felt a reassuring hand settle on his leg. “I can see how much you like her. Patch things up with Hermione and see how things are for the next week. If you still can’t get past what happened, then break it off.” 

Antonin shifted off of the bed and clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in a week. Owl me with how it goes.”

Finn nodded, his lips pursed as he looked up at the indifferent mask his friend wore. Years of friendship made it easy to know when Antonin was occluding and if that is what he needed to do to get over whatever his feelings were for Hermione, then Finn wouldn’t try and talk him out of it. “Be safe. I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He stuck his hand out for a handshake, but Antonin pushed his hand away and pulled Finn in for a hug instead. 

“Take care.” 

….

Hermione cried off and on for the first two days after watching both Finn and Antonin walk away, leaving her alone in the restaurant. Her tears were halted only by the frantic message of Harry's Patronus,  “Albus is coming! We are going to St. Mungo’s now!” 

Her magic was still unpredictable and she thought about seeing a healer, but hadn’t had the motivation to do anything other than the bare minimum it took to do her job and feed herself. She still did everything possible the Muggle way. Hoping to reduce the obvious signs of her melancholy, she used eye-drops to mask her tear-reddened eyes and rubbed some Muggle cream beneath them to hopefully counteract the puffiness. 

The last few days had been hell. When she finally made it home, she managed to cast a few spells without making anything else explode, but as the days dragged on, it only got worse. 

She felt so conflicted. Watching them both walk away from her, it felt like her heart was being ripped in two. Sleeping alone in her bed still felt wrong without Finn’s giant form hogging all of the covers. Her office still smelled faintly of Antonin’s cologne no matter how many times she made Astoria cast a freshening charm. Every time she sat down at her desk, she was reminded of what happened between them.

But she missed  _ them. _ And she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t miss  _ both _ of them when she was only dating one, if she could even still say that. Her letters apologizing profusely hadn’t been returned, but a reply never came. 

She’d gone over everything in her mind countless times since everything came into the open, but she couldn’t dwell on it any longer. She needed to be there for her friends. 

After tying her hair in a loose pony and getting dressed, she crossed her fingers and walked through the Floo, hoping she would end in Daphne and Draco’s living room like she wanted to. When she tumbled out and crashed into Draco’s legs she let out a sigh of relief before flopping back onto the floor. 

“Circe, Hermione. Is your magic still on the fritz?” 

Laughing, she stood up. “What gave you that idea, the fact that I can’t cast beauty charms on myself or the fact that I just had the worst Floo travel I have had in my life?” She paused to brush the soot off of her sweater before Draco siphoned it off for her with a swish of his wand “Can I side-along with you to the hospital? I don’t trust that I won’t end up in Romania if I apparate alone right now.” 

Draco chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “Of course. Daph is briefing my mother on how to take care of James, but when she comes down, we can go.”

Hermione nodded, fidgeting with her sweater and missing the way Draco’s silver eyes scanned her critically. 

“Are you okay, Hermione? You look like hell.” 

She smacked Draco on the shoulder, “Thanks, you prat.” 

His face was still contorted in concern as he rubbed his arm. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

She sighed, debating whether or not she should divulge this information to Draco, knowing how protective he was over her. In some respects, Draco was her best friend more than Harry these days, having a family of his own and a job that regularly sent him around the globe. “The guy I have been seeing and I had a fight, and I think it might be over because he won’t respond to my owls. I don’t want to say more than that until I talk to him, but the last two days have been hell.” She purposefully donned a bright smile, though there was no way it reached her eyes, and clasped her hands behind her back. “But this is a happy time. Pansy is having another baby.” 

Draco wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek before drawing back and letting his hands rest on her arms, just below her shoulders.“You’ve been dating someone we didn’t know about it?” 

“I knew, Draco! Of course, she just made me swear to Merlin I wouldn’t tell you,” Daphne tittered as she entered the room, though Hermione couldn’t have missed the drop in Draco’s brows and the hurt in his eyes that she hadn’t disclosed her relationship to him as well. 

“Now come on! We don’t want to miss anything!” 

After a few short hours of waiting, baby Albus entered the world screaming like a banshee and with a full head of dark hair. Hermione felt the same familiar pang of envy seeing Pansy hold her newborn son as she had when James had been born, though it seemed even worse now. Knowing she would never get to have that moment for herself made pressure settle into her chest heavily and her mind drifted back to Finn and how he was probably better off without a cheating barren witch like her. She tried hard to swallow the jealousy as she hugged the second time parents and cooed over the new life they brought into the world. 

When congratulations were passed and everyone was done fawning over the new baby, Hermione decided it was time for her to return home. Even though she knew she would love Albus just as much as she loved James, her nerves were shot, and she was having a hard time being happy for her friends. They didn’t need to see her falling apart on what was supposed to be a happy day for them, so she quietly excused herself and took a cab to a cafe near her flat 

The coffee and chocolate croissant did little to help her mood, so she left the remnants where they sat on the small wooden table and tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket, deciding to walk home in the cool air.

She hoped it would clear her head and she was right. She felt infinitely better until her stomach dropped when she saw Finn’s large form lounging somewhat stiffly on the stool she kept on her stoop that normally held a potted lavender plant. She could tell the moment he spotted her as she shuffled her way forward because he was on his feet and nearly put his foot through the plant he’d so carefully moved.

Gods, seeing him again was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. If he was here, did that mean—

“I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I wanted to talk to you. I knocked about two hours ago―” he glanced back towards the door before leveling his eyes on her once more “—and hoped you were out, not just ignoring me.”

Hermione smiled meekly, keeping her hands firmly in her pockets so she didn’t reach out to him though he was barely a meter away. “I’ve been at St. Mungo’s… Pansy had her baby.” 

Finn smiled and she felt like she might break as every single emotion she’d worked so hard to clear from her head came barreling back in. “That’s great. Congratulations, Auntie.” 

Her teeth sank into the skin of her lips as she choked back her tears, “Thanks.” 

Finn closed the distance between them, his strong arms pulling her flush against his body and his cheek coming to rest against the top of her head. Her fingers flexed in her pockets until she withdrew them, feeling the sigh that left his body when her arms snaked around his waist. Her hands fisted his shirt as she held her breath in a bid to stave off the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. 

His breath ghosted over her curls, “Come on, let’s go inside and talk.” 

She sniffled and nodded against Finn’s chest. She wanted to stay wrapped in his embrace forever, but if they were going to sort anything out and hopefully come out of this with their relationship salvaged, she would have to at least move far enough away so she could open the door. 

Hermione drew a deep breath, taking in the warm, comforting scent of him before she stepped back and fished her rarely used charmed key out of her pocket. She couldn’t chance trying to enter her house through the wards, she didn’t particularly like the idea of being knocked on her arse again. His hands came to rest on her shoulders and she sunk into the feeling as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door. 

After passing through the dampened wards and re-locking the door, they both shed their jackets and hung them side by side on the coat rack. When Finn guided her to the couch, she couldn’t look at him, her eyes trained on the floor even when he grasped her hand and pulled her down into his lap, tucking his arms around her in a way that made her feel safe and loved. 

Not that she deserved the latter. 

The quiet stretched around them. When Hermione looked up into his beautiful blue eyes, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Thick droplets pooled in the corners of her eyes and streamed down her cheeks in silent sobs. He didn’t try to brush them away, just tucked her safely against his chest and let her cry. His hand rubbed circles over the curve of her spine and dropped kisses on her crown now and again. 

Even if she didn’t know the fate of their relationship, the release was cathartic and only when tears began to slow, did Thorfinn speak, his voice firm and quiet.

“Hermione, I’m sorry for walking out the other night without resolving everything, but I needed time to think. The last few days without you have been hell for me and I know I sent you mixed signals when I told you that I wouldn’t mind sharing you with him, but I feel differently now.”

She’d been caught off guard the first time he’d teased her about inviting Antonin into their bed, but after she’d kissed the wizard in question, she wasn’t surprised to find that his feelings on the matter had changed. 

“I don’t think I can handle seeing you with someone else. You mean too much to me.” He crooked a finger beneath her chin to lift her eyes to his. “I am still hurt that you kissed Antonin behind my back, but I forgive you and I want to work this out with you.” 

He pressed his lips against her forehead, “I want to be with you.” 

Hermione felt like she might faint as his words echoed through her mind.  _ I want to be with you. I forgive you. _ He still wanted her, despite everything but her stomach lurched with anxiety as her thoughts of her inadequacies started floating through her mind. He may have forgiven her, but could she forgive herself when visions of Antonin still invaded her dreams? 

She settled her head back against his chest as he continued, “You have to promise me that nothing like this will ever happen again.I won’t be able to forgive either of you if you go behind my back again.” His voice broke and she felt him press his cheek against her curls, “I couldn’t bear it.”

Hermione nodded and wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “I promise. I’m so sorry, Finn. It won’t happen again. I won’t give you another reason not to trust me. I’m so sorry.”

Her arms snaked around his neck as he pulled her chin up by one finger and placed a gentle kiss against her lips. It was tentative and soft, but it felt so  _ right _ that it almost hurt.

His nose brushed against hers as he pulled her up onto her knees so her legs straddled his lap. “I missed you, princess” he whispered quietly, lips brushing over the softness of her skin. 

She smiled, pressing another chaste peck against his lips. “I missed you too.” 

The warmth of his hands sent pinpricks over her skin as they settled on her bare back beneath her sweater. “Antonin is going away for a week or so for work. Do you want to stay with me?”

_ Yes. _ For as long as he wanted her, she would stay. Of that, she was certain.

“On second thought our wards have been out of sorts, so perhaps we could stay here?”

Her fingers brushed through his hair and a rumble of contentment purred from somewhere deep in his chest. “I don’t care where, as long as I get to be with you.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Antonin thought back to the conversation he had with Finn before leaving on his “work trip.” He felt bad for lying to his friend, but he needed some time away from both Hermione and Finn to sort through and rid himself of his feelings for his best mate’s witch.

The guilt only increased when he sent Finn another owl that said he would be gone for an additional week. If his feelings for the witch hadn’t lessened by the end of this week—making it an agonizing three weeks away from Hermione and his best friend, then he was seriously considering just obliviating himself. 

Finn was happier than he’d seen him in years and Antonin knew he couldn’t ruin that for him. It was rare for Finn to actually develop feelings for a woman. Usually, the women he paraded around were merely for entertainment, pretty socialites who thought they could get their hands on the Rowle fortune or busty girls he’d picked up at a bar. There were times when he hadn’t even known their names, let alone enough about them to discuss them the next morning. 

This witch was different. It was easy to see how Thorfinn looked at her like she made the sun rise every morning. 

And Antonin had almost ruined it. That wasn’t something he would allow himself to do, no matter his own feelings about her. No witch was worth the loss of a thirty-year friendship with a man who was his brother in all but blood. 

Instead of Bulgaria, he’d gone to Greece to escape from his troubles and sort himself out. The Greek coastline was absolutely stunning, and from the patio of his villa, Antonin could see over the open ocean for miles. He’d sat in the sun for hours watching the waves crash over sandy beaches and the boats moving to and from the nearby harbor.

He tried to smile when he felt the hands of last night’s entertainment run over his bare shoulders and nibble at his ear, but he couldn’t make it genuine. 

In another lifetime, she would have been a lovely witch, someone he may have considered pursuing. Pretty, cultured, intelligent… but none of that mattered. She wasn’t right—she wasn’t  _ her. _

Over the last two weeks, he had brought four different women back to his villa and thoroughly debauched each one in a bid to try to forget Hermione. They’d been sated and boneless beneath his hands but no matter who the witch in his bed was, it was impossible for him to find his own release. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the act but inevitably he would catch the scent of perfume or hear a breathy moan that didn’t belong to the witch who tormented his dreams, and everything bubbled to the surface once more. 

It was as if someone had cast an infidelity curse over him because the only way he was able to finish was when he was alone and images of Hermione climaxing against his living room wall flooded his mind. Even recalling the softness of her curves and the press of her lips against his was enough to send him over the edge. He’d even gone so far as to check himself over for latent curses. Twice.

The witches he brought back to the villa? They did nothing for him. He’d even tried to lock Hermione in a tiny box beneath his occlumency shields, but she never stayed there for long.

So tonight, he would try something different. He would get absolutely pissed and hope that as he watched the waves alone, the alcohol would burn away the memory of her. 

….

Hermione watched as Finn carefully retrieved the parchment from the waiting owl, giving the small bird a stroke and a treat before unfurling the scroll. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as he read the short missive before crumpling it into a ball. 

He tossed the parchment in the rubbish bin and took a seat on the stool beside her. “Antonin is going to be gone for another week.” 

_ Another one? _ He’d already been gone for two and by the start of the second week, Finn had grown moody at the absence of his best friend. At least at the moment, her magic was behaving because she wasn’t certain she could handle her grumpy boyfriend in addition to not being able to cast basic spells. 

“Oh?” Her curiosity piqued. 

When she and Antonin worked on the case together, he had mentioned that he was grateful he never had to travel for work anymore. He’d trained his employees well and now, most of them were dispatched when Gringott’s received a call from out of the country for a curse breaker. Thoughts began to cross her mind that maybe he was using work as an excuse to run from her—especially his feelings for her. 

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about doing the same thing. Instead, she was able to focus all of her energy on her boyfriend, but in the quiet of the night, she’d woken up more than once dreaming about the Russian wizard. 

In truth, the past two weeks with Finn had been wonderful. They’d gone to the cinema and walked through the park, he’d brought her lunch at work and they’d spent every night together. Most mornings she woke up to his head between her thighs, teasing her open with his tongue before she had to rush around in a flurry so she wouldn’t be late to work.

“Yeah, he told me before he left something about the Bulgarian Ministry requesting the best of the best. Whatever.” He flipped through the  _ Daily Prophet _ and sipped his coffee as though he were trying to hide his disappointment. “What are your plans for the day, princess?”

Hermione swallowed the bite of food she had in her mouth and pushed her plate away. “Well, considering it’s Sunday, I was just going to do my normal routine—”

“Lazy sex on the couch and movies?” Finn grinned from ear to ear, leaving his newspaper and coffee abandoned on the bar in favor of tugging her towards him and slipping his hands beneath her flimsy nightshirt. 

Hermione laughed, her head falling against his chest when one of his hands curved around her side and rolled a nipple between thick fingers. “I was going to say laundry and grocery shopping, but I suppose we can spend a few hours on the couch pretending to watch movies.” 

She squealed as Finn picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, his hands pressing into her thighs as he brought her into the living room. After dropping her down onto the cushions, his fingers hooked beneath the band of her knickers and tugged them down with the most delicious grin playing over his lips. 

……

After three weeks of bedding women, going to bed drunk, and watching the Greek ocean tide, Antonin decided it was time to return home and stop running from his problems. He was no worse off than when he left, but he certainly couldn’t say if the trip had done him any good. Thoughts of Hermione plagued his mind and his magic still hadn’t returned to normal. He’d even seen a healer in Greece and there was nothing on her scans that indicated anything was wrong. 

His international portkey whisked him away on time and deposited him in the alley behind his flat, as intended. He discarded the now inert bit of rusted metal in a nearby bin and fished the key to his flat out of his pocket. He’d lived like a Muggle for most of the past three weeks and he wasn’t about to chance apparition now when he was already nervous wondering exactly what he might walk in to. 

When he entered the flat, the first thing he heard was Hermione’s soft laugh which was quickly followed by Finn’s throaty chuckle. He prayed to every Slavic deity that his parents had raised him to respect that they were both dressed and that he wouldn’t catch them in a compromising position again. 

“Hello? Finn?” 

Antonin heard the padding of bare feet down the hall toward the front door before being tackled from behind by Finn. The taller man enveloped him in a crushing hug and his enthusiasm immediately put a smile on Antonin’s face. 

“You finally came back! I thought work was going to keep you abroad forever, Ant.” 

Antonin laughed nervously as he returned the hug, still uneasy with Finn’s penchant for physical affection after so many years of having been deprived of it. They walked towards the kitchen, Antonin following closely behind Finn as he explained the story he’d carefully crafted to cover his absence. “Yeah, it took me one whole week to figure out what the dark magic was, and another week to break the curse on it. Then the third week, I just taught some tricks to the Bulgarian curse breakers so hopefully I won’t have to go back.”

He caught sight of Hermione out of the corner of his eye and his heart raced at the sight of her. Even with her hair in a haphazard bun on her head, no makeup, and just a tank top and sleep shorts on, she was more beautiful to him than she had ever appeared in his dreams. 

“Hey, Hermione.” He held up an awkward hand to wave at her because he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t ignore her and he’d given Finn his word he’d never touch the witch again. 

She smiled and nodded, lifting her hand to wave and murmuring a soft, “Hello.” 

Antonin shifted his bag on his shoulder and glanced towards the hallway where their rooms and washroom were. “Well, I should go shower. Wash my trip off.” 

As he started down the hallway, Finn called out, “Hey Ant?” 

Antonin glanced back over his shoulder as Finn approached.“Yeah, mate?” 

“Hermione and I are going to go back to her place. We thought that maybe you would want some peace and quiet after being gone.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” Really, it was a great idea, though his body revolted at the idea of not seeing the witch in those tiny shorts she liked to sleep in. During the week they’d worked together, he had the pleasure of sitting with her at the breakfast table and quickly learned that sleepy Hermione cared little for proper pajamas until she had a cup of coffee and her modesty suddenly returned. “I can handle being around her, Finn.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, but he honestly didn’t know if he could handle it. “You don’t have to hide for my sake.”

“I know, but still. You said you needed time. I just wanted to give it to you.” 

Antonin couldn’t help but think that even in the three weeks of being away from her, his feelings only seemed to grow. If he were ever going to get over the witch, he would need more than a few weeks far away from her—a lifetime, perhaps. But if he didn’t want to cut his best friend out of his life just to avoid one witch, he’d better start finding a way to function around her. 

“Finn, I’m fine, honestly.” Antonin hoped his voice was strong enough to sound convincing, though he wasn’t certain if he was attempting to convince himself or Finn that he was capable of being around Hermione. “You should stay, we can cook or get takeaway or something. Get back to normal.” 

Finn’s face lit up at his suggestion. “Yeah? I would like that. Thanks, Ant, for being a good friend to me.” 

After a fairly pleasant dinner and dessert, Antonin walked into the kitchen to see Finn helping Hermione do dishes the Muggle way. The blond man held the towel with one hand while his other looped around Hermione’s waist, his fingers tucked just beneath the hem of her t-shirt. She tilted her head to the side and Finn kissed her crown before laughing and scooping a few soap bubbles up with his finger and putting them on her nose. 

She snatched the towel from his hand and smacked him with it before he picked her up and spun her around, slowing down only when she gave in to whatever game they were playing and kissed him. Antonin couldn’t watch anymore and turned around, returning to his room and quietly closing the door so he and his jealousy wouldn’t get in the way of their happiness. 

As he drifted off to sleep, Hermione once again filled his dreams, though they’d morphed from something mostly sexual to something blissfully domestic. He tossed and turned as images of a life not meant for him flashed before his eyes. 

_ Antonin felt a pair of small arms wrap around his waist from behind as he gave the sauce for the pasta a quick stir. Delicate lips pressed gentle kisses over his spine and the moment he was able to set the spoon down, he turned and wrapped his arms around the petite witch. Her brilliant smile cut through to his heart and his entire being warmed from the brightness of it. His hands drifted up to cup her face between them, pulling her forward to press a sweet kiss to the perfect bow of her lips.  _

_ “Smells amazing. Can I do anything to help?”  _

_ He nuzzled his nose against her crown, the scent of her shampoo filling his senses. “You can put the salad together, everything for it is in the fridge.”  _

_ She nodded, pressing one last kiss to the scruff of his jaw before pulling back. “Caesar or the Balsamic Vinaigrette?”  _

The scene changed. 

_ Light filtered in from the rising sun through the gauzy curtains, covering the room in a soft orange glow. Antonin’s eyes flickered open, blinking in the light of the morning. The witch sleeping against his chest didn’t stir. Her body was wrapped in a thin, ivory sheet and the warmth of her pressed against his side as her head rose and fell with each breath he took. He brushed the curls away from her face with the tips of his fingers and tucked them behind her ear, watching the beauty on his chest sleep for just a moment more before they had to rise for the day.  _

Again.

_ The market was busy as they wandered through the stalls, several colourful bags already in hand. She wound her fingers through his other hand and eagerly pointed out things she found exciting, dragging him from this stall to that one. Even as she flicked through a box of records, her fingers never left his until she found exactly what she was looking for, plucking it out of the box and holding it up for him to see with a bright smile on her face.  _

_ He plucked his camera from the satchel slung crosswise over his body and snapped a picture of her with the intent to develop and frame it later.  _

_ “I’ve been searching for this one for ages.”  _

_ “He’ll love it.”  _

_ She paid the woman behind the gingham covered table for her purchase, and he snapped another picture before she turned around and tucked the prized record into one of the bags in his hand. _

And again.

_ She sat at the desk in the study, shelves of books surrounding her, the subjects ranging from those chronicling the rise of dark magic to silly, sweet romance novels and a myriad of textbooks. Her head was balanced on one hand as the other scratched furiously across the pages of a spiral with a muggle pen.  _

_ Antonin set the cup of tea down on the desk, watching the steam spiral above it before setting his hands on her shoulders. Her head fell back when he massaged her tired muscles, a contented smile on her face.  _

_ “Mm. That feels nice.”  _

_ “You’re working too hard.”  _

_ “I’ve only got a bit more to do and then I can start packing for our trip.”  _

_ He dropped a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll love St. Petersburg.”  _

_ “I love you.”  _

  
  


He jolted awake with a deep ache in his chest. He could barely make out the sliver of the moon shining through the curtains, dawn was nowhere in sight. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, internally chiding himself for not taking any Dreamless Sleep. It was too late—or too early, to take the potion, but at the very least, he could do with a glass of water to settle his mind. 

As he neared the kitchen, he saw the light was already on and when he rounded the corner, he found Hermione holding a glass of water, flipping through a magazine on the counter. She was dressed in Finn’s t-shirt from the night before, the hem barely brushing the middle of her thighs and instantly, his heart started pounding.

She jumped a bit when she heard him approach, the hand not holding the glass of water coming to rest against her heart. She was obviously not expecting to have company in the kitchen at this time of night. “Goodness, you startled me.”

Antonin huffed out a laugh, “Sorry, that wasn’t my intention. Just came out for some water. What are you doing up?” His eyes peered at the clock on the wall, trying to make sense of the numbers at the early hour. “It’s nearly three in the morning.” 

She chuckled lightly, taking a sip of her water. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. Had a dream that woke me up and decided to come out here and try to read or something instead of just laying there awake.” 

“Nothing bad, I hope?” Antonin poured a glass of water from the tap and drank it down.

She shook her head, a pretty blush rising to her cheeks. “No, nothing bad.” 

“I know the feeling well,” he paused, an awkward silence settling between them. He set his glass in the sink, unsure if he should just turn and say goodnight or try to initiate more conversation with her. 

Hermione spoke up before he had the chance to decide, “So, did you really go to Bulgaria, or did you just run away after what happened?” 

_ Shite. _

Antonin swallowed loudly, his palms pressing against the edge of the counter before he turned around. “Hermione—”

“Before you say anything, I didn’t tell Finn what I thought. You were the one that told me you would never have to travel for work because of the ‘perks of being the boss’ or some shite, so just spit it out, are you running from this?” She gestured vaguely between them.

His eyes focused above her head on a framed photograph of a landscape he’d taken several years ago, unable to look her in the eye. “Finn was right, I should have pulled away when I had the chance, then at least I wouldn’t feel like I betrayed my only friend or family that I have left. The guilt was eating me alive and I was battling with a lot of other emotions and needed to get away from them before I did something else I knew I would regret.” 

A rush of breath left his lungs and his eyes dropped back down to the witch before him, who was looking at him with wide eyes. “Emotions? What—what are you talking about Antonin?” She crossed her arms beneath her chest, and Antonin couldn’t help but notice that the only thing it did was pull the hem of Finn’s shirt higher, exposing more of her thighs and highlighting the curve of her breasts. 

He averted his gaze back to her eyes before she noticed him staring at places he absolutely should not be looking. Looking wasn’t touching, but he wasn’t about to risk it. She was too bloody tempting. “You know exactly what I am talking about Hermione.” His hand reached out to her, gesturing between them. “This pull I have to you, the feeling like my magic is constantly reaching for you.” He forced his hands into the pockets of his pajama trousers. “I know you felt it when we kissed.” 

She nodded. “Who knew one kiss could cause so many mixed emotions for both of us?” 

What was she saying? 

“I feel so strongly for him, but then I feel like I’m blindsided because I feel so much for you, as well.” Her eyes dropped away from his, focusing on some unknown point near her bare feet. “I’m not used to not knowing my own heart. I’ve never felt anything like this before and I’m having a difficult time sorting through everything I’m feeling for both of you. It’s so confusing.” 

Antonin didn’t know if it was better or worse knowing that she felt the same, but he did know he would sacrifice his own feelings to see Finn happy.

He cleared his throat, surprised at how quickly the emotions he’d tried so hard to keep suppressed bubbled to the surface as he spoke. “I promised Finn I wouldn’t touch you ever again but— _ fuck _ Hermione, it’s so much harder than I ever thought it would be.” 

He felt the pull to go to her flare to life in his core the moment he looked up and saw a line of tears sliding down her cheeks. He gripped the counter behind him to keep himself firmly where he was. “Please don’t cry. I won’t be able to stop myself from trying to comfort you.” 

Hermione quickly wiped her eyes clear of tears with the back of her hand. “So, what should we do?” 

Antonin’s fingers flexed around the counter and then he released them, allowing his arms to swing down by his side.“I’m going to have to talk to Finn. He needs to know that this is more complicated than mere sexual attraction—that there are emotions attached.” 

“He deserves to know, I guess.” 

“He’s my best friend, Hermione.” 

“I know.” The fingers on her right hand ran over her plump bottom lip and Antonin couldn’t help but remember how soft her lips felt when they pillowed against his. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “Is it bad that I want to kiss you again?”

Antonin groaned, dropping his head into his hands, his body moving closer to hers of its own volition. “You can’t say shite like that.” 

She looked up at him through wet lashes, fresh tears pooling in her eyes and it caused his heart to pound all over again. Her front melded against him and her arms slipped around his waist, the feel of her small hands sending a shiver through his spine.

A line he swore he would never cross had been crossed. 

She swallowed loudly, whispering, “He doesn’t have to find out.” 

His heart thumped an erratic tattoo as Antonin placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled her close, their lips less than an inch apart. He could feel the soft puffs of her breath on his lips and see the bright threads of gold weaving through the brown of her irises, and he wanted to get lost in them. Before either of them could close the distance, he pulled back, placing a kiss against her forehead, his magic rejoicing in the feel of her warmth against his lips. 

The tenor of Antonin’s voice cracked with emotion, his accent growing thicker as the syllables rolled off his tongue “I can’t, Hermione.  _ Fuck _ , you have no idea how badly I want to, but I can’t. He’s my best mate. I can’t do this to him, not again… not ever. I have to talk to him.” 

Her arms tightened around his waist and her head dropped against his chest as she nodded, his shirt growing wet with her tears. “You’re right. Gods, I can’t control myself around you. I feel like such a slag and neither you nor Finn deserves someone like me.”

He shushed her gently, placing kisses against the top of her head. The contented thrum of his magic pulsing through his veins growing stronger with each offer of comfort. “I won’t tolerate you speaking that way about yourself, you’re perfect exactly as you are.” He curled his arms around her shoulders and pressed the crying witch more firmly against his chest. “Don’t worry,  _ solnyshko. _ We will figure this out.” 

He held her close until she calmed, brushing his fingers through her curls and quietly shushing her. Antonin had to believe that they would be able to work something out. Knowing he’d already crossed the line he swore he wouldn’t, he still hoped Thorfinn would understand that Hermione was upset and needed to be comforted. He stopped himself before he kissed her, no matter how badly he wanted to.

It was physically painful to pull away from her without letting their lips touch, but he knew that if he kissed her he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from going further. 

“When you go to work in the morning, I’ll talk to him. Tell him about how I feel. I don’t know where it will get us, but it’s worth a shot.” 

Hermione nodded before wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I should go back to bed before he comes looking for me.” 

“Goodnight, Hermione.  _ Sladkiye Mechty. _ ” 

She twisted a curl around her finger. “I like hearing you speak Russian. What does that phrase mean?”

“Sweet dreams.” 

She gave him a small smile before replying, “Goodnight, Antonin” 

He was woken from yet another dream by the beeping of his alarm. He silenced the device and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. 

Was he dreaming? Or had he nearly kissed Hermione in their kitchen only a few hours ago? He swallowed hard, trying to soothe his dry throat as he sat up in bed, knowing that if he laid back down, he would only fall back asleep. The dreams from last night played over in his mind again only to be replaced by the memory of comforting Hermione in the kitchen. A weight settled in his chest, tight and aching as he recalled just how close he’d come to kissing his best friend’s witch again. He needed to talk to Finn about Hermione before his feelings got out of hand, and he did something that he couldn’t take back. 

Hermione had mentioned last night over dinner that she had to leave for work early because she had an early meeting with her boss to prepare for, so when Antonin heard her leave, he penned a letter to his boss letting him know he would be out for the next two days citing that a ward specialist was coming to reset their wards. His supervisor might be irritated with him, but he had the days to spare, and sorting out his personal life was more important to him than his job, no matter how much he loved being a cursebreaker. He quickly added that he would be back for certain on Wednesday if everything went well and sent the letter off with their owl. 

He heard Finn’s heavy steps thumping against the hardwoods in the hallway and fading as he approached the kitchen. Dressing quickly, Antonin trudged down the hallway to face his best friend, but a cup of coffee was in order before he could even know where to begin. 

“Morning, Ant.” 

Antonin nodded and muttered, “Good morning,” as he set the espresso machine to brew and pulled the cream from the fridge. 

“Everything okay, mate? You look like you got hit by a truck.” 

Antonin smirked.  _ Feels like I got hit by a bloody freight train. _ “Yeah just a rough night, I guess. I am having someone come and look at the wards on the flat today. It’s really inconvenient for us not to be able to apparate or floo anywhere, let alone perform any spellwork.”

The machine finished and Antonin added a splash of cream to his cup before taking a tentative sip of the hot beverage, unwilling to wait for it to cool. 

Finn laughed, “Yeah, you're right. Maybe they can go look at Hermione’s place too. She said that she hasn’t been able to cast a spell normally in like a month. I laughed at her the other day when she tried to cast a make-up charm and ended up looking like a clown.” 

Antonin shook his head and laughed. Leave it to Finn to say the most absurd thing to completely change the mood.“You are not supposed to laugh when your witch looks bad, mate. It makes them angry.” 

“It’s okay, I cheered her up after.” Finn raised a cheeky brow and lifted his cup of coffee in a mock toast, winking after before he downed the rest of the dark beverage.

Everything he had been feeling before rushed back again, and Antonin’s blood ran cold. Jealousy flooded through his veins while his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to tamp down the emotions that were trying to claw their way out of his throat. “Finn, I need to tell you something.” 

“Sure, what’s up?” Finn’s large form twisted nervously on the barstool across from where Antonin stood, his brow furrowed. 

Antonin sighed, setting his coffee cup aside, trying to gather the courage to tell his best friend what he needed to tell him. “It’s about Hermione. I—”

Thorfinn started to stand, hands pressing heavily against the granite counter. “Did you do something with her again? Because I swear—” 

“Shut up and sit down,” Antonin barked, but his sudden assertiveness made his best friend drop back to a seated position and gave him time to draw a breath before continuing. “No. I didn’t, but I think my feelings for Hermione run deeper than just physical attraction.” 

Finn’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched, “Alright, and?” 

There was no easy way to say what he needed to say. He let the words flow over his lips, feeling the tight coil in his stomach relax as the truth was aired. “I’ve been having dreams about her, and not just sex dreams. They’re bloody domestic, and I’ll spare you the details, but they’re intimate.” 

Finn rubbed his hands over his chin, scratching through the dark blond scruff that lined his jaw. “So you’re saying what? That your feelings for her haven’t changed, even after nearly a month? I don’t know what you want, Antonin.” 

Antonin shrugged his shoulders, leaning back against the counter, knowing he couldn’t very well tell Finn that he wanted the witch for himself. He didn’t know how to solve this  _ thing _ between the three of them without someone getting hurt. “I don’t know what I want, I just felt like you should know.” 

Finn’s lips pressed together, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “You want to fuck her?” 

“Finn—” 

His hand slammed down against the granite, a pointed brow raised at Antonin. “Answer me, Ant. Do you want to fuck my witch?” 

“You already asked me that, just over three weeks ago.” 

“And you didn’t give me a definitive answer then. I need to know.” 

He hesitated. Yes, he wanted Hermione in his bed, but it went so much deeper than that. “I mean yes, but I wouldn’t, like I already told you, I value our friendship more.” 

“Have you talked to her about this?” The deep baritone of his best friend’s voice couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than accusatory. Finn’s frustration was almost palpable as the tension grew between them. 

“Every interaction we have had since the night I told you about the kiss has been in your presence.” Another lie. 

“Maybe you just need another witch to keep your mind off her.” He crossed his arms over his chest, settling his elbows on the countertop.

“Finn, that’s not the issue. While I was away on—for work, I had a few women over in my hotel room, to see if I just needed to get laid. Let’s just say it didn’t work.” He wasn’t about to tell his friend about his issues  _ finishing. _

“What didn’t work? Your dick or your head?” 

“Finn—god, would you stop being so crass? The bottom line is I slept with four other women in three weeks and it changed nothing. I still came home and dreamt about  _ your _ witch.” 

Antonin watched as Finn processed through everything he had revealed. The blond’s eyes betrayed a number of emotions even if his face was carefully neutral. “I don’t want to come between the two of you. I will do what I can to curb my feelings for Hermione. You are the happiest I have seen you in years and I will not ruin that for you. You’re my best mate, my  _ family _ , and I love you.” 

“I wonder if she feels the same way.” 

Antonin was unable to control the look of shock that came over his face when his mouth dropped open and his eyes widen. Of everything he thought Finn  _ might _ say, it was not those eight words. “And—and if she does?” 

Finn drew a deep breath, and Antonin knew his best friend wasn’t fond of what he was about to suggest. “Then the simple solution is we have a threesome and hope that you fuck your feelings for her right out.” 

Maybe Finn was right and a night in their bed would fix everything. It wasn't like he and Finn hadn’t shared witches before, but this was different territory than a one-night-stand where his best friend had promised him a good time. There were emotions at play and if something went wrong, one of their relationships might become irreparable. “And if that doesn’t work?” 

Finn seemed to consider his question for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “Then Hermione and I break up and we’ll be miserable sods together because I won’t choose a woman over my best friend. We’re family, simple as that. I’ll talk to her tonight when she gets home.” 

Antonin really hoped this was not as terrible of an idea as he thought it was. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” 

Finn firmly shook his head, leveling his eyes on Antonin. “No. This needs to be solved once and for all. If you feel as strongly for her as you are making it sound, you will be miserable for the rest of your life, and I can’t keep wondering if you two are sneaking around behind my back. Cuckolding is not one of my kinks.”

Before they could finish the conversation, the ward specialist came through the floo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame me (Lyra) for any mistakes in Russian! They all came from Google Translate.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Publishes this chapter and runs, laughing maniacally.* 
> 
> ENJOY. Also, sorry for the cliffhanger, but WE PROMISE to make it up to you next week :)

With every other witch he’d shared with Antonin, things had seemed to flow easily. He’d curl his arms around the witch from behind, fingers lingering over soft skin while Antonin would divest the witch of her clothing, capturing her mouth while he deftly released the closures of whatever garment she happened to be wearing. It was almost routine, the manner in which they shared witches, but once Hermione had agreed and they’d opened a bottle of wine a few nights later, Thorfinn found it difficult to know exactly how to proceed. 

They sat around in the living room, each holding a glass of wine as an awkward silence descended over them. Antonin didn’t seem to want to make the first move and neither did Hermione, though it was impossible to miss the glances they exchanged. 

They’d both mentioned a pull towards the other and watching them closely, it was easy to see it. It was as if they orbited each other, but they kept apart out of respect for him even though it seemed almost painful for them to do so. He’d seen Hermione reach toward Antonin on more than one occasion before she drew her hand back. 

The sight of it nearly turned his stomach until he noticed how Hermione leaned into him just as easily, touching and kissing him at every opportunity. The ease with which she bestowed affection soothed him and reaffirmed how much he cared for her.

Rationally, he knew they were waiting for him out of some sort of modicum of respect, but he’d already told them they could fuck—as long as he was there too. He’d also been very clear about this being a one-time thing, and they’d both agreed.

Thorfinn didn’t know what he should have felt upon hearing the revelation that his best friend and his girlfriend might have feelings for each other. His first reaction was anger when Hermione said she felt something too, but his emotions mellowed the moment she put her hand on his forearm and talked about how conflicted she felt. He knew Antonin felt the same. Neither of them  _ wanted _ to have those feelings, but they had manifested, nonetheless. 

If it came down to it, like he told Antonin, he would break up with Hermione. The past three weeks with her had been bloody amazing but with Antonin gone, everything felt wrong. He missed his best friend,  _ his brother _ . The relief that washed over him was instantaneous when Antonin finally came home and there was no way he would sacrifice that for a witch, even one where he was so close to falling in love he could taste it. 

The clink of glassware on the table drew him out of his thoughts and he quickly found himself with a lap full of witch. Her knees pressed into the cushions on either side of his legs and her arms threaded around his neck as her lips closed over his.  _ This _ he could do. The tension in his spine unwound as Hermione kissed him and he motioned for Antonin to join them before his hands threaded into Hermione’s curls. 

His witch gasped against his lips, though whether it was because Antonin’s hands were likely slipping beneath her shirt or because he tightened his fingers in her hair, Finn didn’t know. He tugged at Hermione’s curls until she tilted her head back, soft mouth falling open when his lips skated over the curve of her throat. 

Antonin was watching them, lust clouding his eyes and Finn inclined his head, giving his best friend permission to touch Hermione as he pleased. As Finn nipped at the juncture of Hermione’s neck and shoulder, eliciting a sweet gasp from her lips, Antonin’s hands skated over her sides, drawing her t-shirt up and over her head with practised ease. 

Antonin had always been better than Finn at undressing witches, savouring the removal of each article whereas Finn was impatient, using slicing hexes to remove stubborn articles of clothing or just ripping them off with his hands. 

Finn heard Antonin sigh as he rested his cheek against Hermione’s bareback and as Thorfinn pressed his lips to Hermione’s neck once more, it was almost as if the world shifted on its axis. An intense feeling of  _ rightness _ zipped through his veins like the scatter of a lightning strike and dissipated just as quickly when he pulled back. 

He watched as one of Antonin’s arms snaked around Hermione’s middle and the other crept upwards between her breasts, passing over the still inflamed burnished silver scar, making Hermione shiver. Her nipples tightened when Antonin’s hand curved around her throat and Finn released her hair so her head could drop back. His eyes met Antonin’s as a moan spilled over Hermione’s lips as Thorfinn rolled one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

“You can be louder than that, princess,” he teased, the hand on her hip tugging her forward slightly so she could feel his erection pressing against her. 

As Thorfinn leaned forward, Antonin tilted Hermione so her back arched and her breasts thrust outward at the perfect level for Thorfinn to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, tugging until she whimpered. He smiled, releasing the bud and circling it with his tongue while Antonin’s hand slipped beneath the fabric of her leggings. 

“Fucking hell,” Antonin's head dropped forward to rest against her shoulder as he found what lay between the apex of her thighs—a delight Thorfinn was more than acquainted with.

Hermione nearly jumped off of his lap and Thorfinn knew the man at her back must have brushed against her clit. She was sensitive on any given day, but the sounds falling from her lips bordered on euphoric and they still had most of their clothing on. That needed to change. He wanted his witch naked and begging for it and probably most surprising of all, he wanted Antonin there to bring her to that bliss. 

Finn swirled his tongue around her nipple before pulling off with a pop, gently stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

“P-please…” Her hips rocked forward and back against Antonin’s fingers. 

“Begging already? We’ve only just begun.” Finn’s fingers wrapped around Antonin’s wrist, urging the other man to stop as he dotted playful kisses over the lines of her collar bone, skipping over where Antonin’s hand still rested at the base of her neck. 

Thorfinn’s thumb pressed against Hermione’s chin, the rest of his fingers crooked beneath as he directed her eyes to his. Antonin helped to move her so her spine was no longer arched, before his hands came to rest along the curve of her waist. Finn could just make out the slight glisten on Antonin’s fingers and knew Hermione had to be soaked. 

“Tell me you want this,” he commanded, gently. Part of him wanted her to say that she didn’t—that she only wanted him and not Antonin as well, but her response was the same as it had been the day they discussed this arrangement. 

“I want this— _ both _ of you.” 

Finn pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, “Antonin?” 

“Yes.”

He kept his gaze focused on the witch in his lap. “Tell me your safeword.” 

Hermione bit her lip before a cheeky grin spread across her lips. “Susan.” 

Finn’s brows raised while Antonin snorted from behind Hermione, his entire torso shaking with laughter. “Good choice. She’s a right terror, that one.” 

They usually just went with a simple colour system when it was just the two of them, but if she wanted to be cheeky about it tonight, he wasn’t going to stop her. The colour words were always there to fall back on in case they forgot. 

Hermione grinned, her head tilted to the side, “Yours?” 

Antonin’s voice grew quiet and Finn could nearly see the furrow in Antonin’s brow though his face was obscured behind Hermione, “Pchelka.” Even though Finn had heard the word countless times before and knew it was coming, it never failed to make him want to reach out and wrap his arms around Antonin when he said the nickname his father had given his mother. 

He caught the confusion in Hermione’s eye, and drew everyone back to the present, by stating his own. “Kestrel.” 

Hermione repeated all three words and indicated that everything stopped if even one of those words was said. Finn’s chest swelled with pride and he pulled her down for another kiss before tapping his hands against her thighs and telling her to stand up. 

Her hands grasped the back of the sofa and she shifted to her feet, Antonin’s hands guiding her so she did not fall, as the other man rose from a tall kneel to stand behind her. Finn’s hands grasped her ankles until she held onto the back of the couch while Antonin slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings and began to remove them, inch by torturous inch. 

Antonin worked them down her legs as though he was savouring each revealed centimeter of skin, following the line with kisses to the backs of her thighs. Finn’s hands trailed upwards, brushing over Antonin’s to grasp her by the hips as Antonin slipped the soft, stretchy cotton pants from her feet and tossed them aside, leaving her in only a pair of dark lace knickers. 

Thorfinn’s fingers threaded beneath the lace on either side of her hips and tugged them harshly until the seams gave way and the mangled scrap fell into his lap, leaving Hermione bare between them. 

She gave a little whine of protest, but he shushed her as his fingers sought out the damp patch of curls at her center. He parted her folds, sliding the pad of his fingers through the slick warmth he found there before sliding two fingers into her cunt. 

“You’re soaked, princess. Have you been thinking about this?” He slowly withdrew his fingers as Antonin ran his hands up Hermione’s thighs, grasping her arse and opening her. Finn grew harder in his trousers knowing his best friend was watching him fuck his witch with his fingers. “Having this pretty little cunt fucked by both of us?” 

Her hips pushed back on his fingers and he chucked, leaving just the tips of his fingers inside of her, no matter how she moved. 

“You didn’t answer me.” 

Hermione whimpered, her feet spreading apart slightly as she tried to widen her stance to gain more of the contact she desired. Thorfinn heard the sharp crack of Antonin’s hand smacking against Hermione’s arse and he turned his head to the side before she lurched forward with a sharp cry ripping from her throat.

“You were asked a question, Hermione,” Antonin reminded her. 

Her tense body relaxed as Antonin’s hand caressed the reddening mark with gentle strokes of his thumb before his lips passed over the stinging print.

“Yes, I-I’ve thought about it,” she admitted, her voice high and breathy. Finn rewarded her back circling her clit with his thumb and stroking his fingers along the walls of her cunt, though it was nowhere close to what she needed to come. Keeping her on edge was something he loved to do, giving her just enough to get close and then denying her pleasure until she was a whimpering, sobbing, overstimulated mess. But tonight wasn’t about him, it was about  _ them. _

“Good girl,” he praised, slipping the hand that was resting against her hip along her abdomen until he could push her torso upward. “If you keep being our good girl, you’ll get to come. Would you like that?” 

“ _ Yes. _ ” 

“Perfect,” Finn smiled against her sternum and pressed his lips against the soft skin of her chest. “Back on my lap.” She started to lower herself to her knees once more, but Thorfinn stopped her, urging her off of the couch so she could turn around. He kissed the reddened handprint on her arse before lowering her into his lap. Hooking her legs over his, Thorfinn spread her open with a press of his hands to her inner thighs. 

He watched as Antonin’s eyes stared at the silvery mark cutting across her chest, rapid breaths falling from his lips. Finn slipped a hand between Hermione’s legs to keep her occupied while Antonin took a moment to come to terms with what he was seeing, knowing that the sight of the burnished silver scar with inflammation still lingering around the edges had to be jarring, especially when Antonin had been the one to put it there. 

Hermione was just as responsive as always, but there was something heightened about her demeanor. She seemed more present, more insatiable, just…  _ more.  _

The sound of a moan falling from her lips seemed to pull Antonin out of his own mind and he dropped to his knees, his hands gliding over her thighs as he leaned over her body and captured one of her nipples in his mouth. She arched towards his lips and Thorfinn could almost feel a surge of magic rush through her as he teased her with his fingers, feeling her pussy spasm and clench around them. 

“Not yet, sweet.” He pulled his fingers from her dripped core and dragged them up her body, leaving a trail of sticky wetness behind before he pressed them against her lips. She opened for him, sucking and licking her juices from his fingers as Antonin continued to tease her breasts. 

When Finn pulled his fingers from Hermione’s mouth, he threaded his fingers through Antonin’s hair, pushing the other man down her body until his face was level with her center. 

“Taste her, mate, she tastes like heaven.” Finn encouraged, quietly as he guided Hermione’s arms upward to rest around the back of his head. His hands settled on her breasts as Antonin’s tongue darted out to lap at her, a rumble of pleasure radiating from the Russian’s chest. 

Hermione’s fingers grasped tightly at Finn’s hair as he twisted and pinched her nipples while Antonin licked her cunt. He watched his best friend’s tongue dip deep inside her center before drawing through her folds to suck at her clit. 

The lights in the flat flickered as Hermione climbed closer to her peak, but Finn was so lost in watching Antonin pleasure his witch that he barely noticed the change. He grinned at the litany of curses and names and sounds that climbed higher and higher up the decibel meter as he kissed and nipped at her ear, whispering the filthy words she so loved to hear until she shattered. 

He felt the wave of magic wash over him as she crested, screaming and writhing on his lap as they worked her through each aftershock. Finn whispered sweet praises in her ear, telling her she was good, perfect, and wonderful, while Antonin’s thumbs rubbed circles over her calves as he languidly passed his tongue through her folds until she was boneless in Thorfinn’s arms. 

Antonin pressed a final kiss to the jut of her hip and Finn shifted Hermione in his arms until she was cradled against him, her head resting against the dip in his shoulder. 

The room was dim and Thorfinn realized that only candlelight surrounded them where before it had been only electric lamplight. Candles of varying shapes and sizes now dotted nearly every flat surface in the room, each one lit and flickering, surrounding the three of them in a warm glow.

“Is it—”

Thorfinn shook his head, gently brushing his lips against her sweat-slicked forehead. “No. It’s never been that intense before.” 

“Did you feel her magic?” 

Watching her come apart like that had made him painfully hard beneath his trousers. It was easily one of the most erotic sights he had ever seen, but a pang of jealousy struck him in the heart. Once they’d moved past the awkwardness and had found a rhythm, each action had flowed with perfect synchronicity… so, why did Thorfinn feel so wretched? 

He frowned, glancing down at the drowsy witch in his arms. He could still feel the magic rippling off of her skin and no matter how much he wanted to bury himself within her, Finn knew that now was not that time. “I think we need to stop for now.” 

Antonin nodded, wiping his hand across his mouth and rising from where he had knelt on the floor. “Go tuck her in and we can talk.”

* * *

Hermione awoke hours later, cocooned in the overbearing warmth of a quilt with her wizard at her back. His arm, heavy with sleep, draped across her midsection and tucked her close against his body. Her entire body ached in a way it hadn’t since the night Voldemort had been defeated and she suffered from magical exhaustion, but she felt  _ good.  _ Her mind felt clearer than it had in days, though the memories of what happened in the living room were hazy, at best. 

She twisted beneath Thorfinn’s arm, shimmying the blanket down her body and sighing with relief as the cool air soothed her scorched skin. Attempting to gingerly move Thorfinn’s arm off of her so she could get a drink of water from the kitchen, he only held her firmly as though he were afraid to let her go. 

“Hermione?” He mumbled, his lips dragging across the skin of her shoulder with each sleepy syllable. “Go back to sleep.” 

“I just need a drink,” she whispered into the still night air, twisting around to sit up before leaning over and kissing his hairline. “I’ll be right back.” 

His arm remained slung around her waist as he cuddled closer, his face resting against her hip. “Was worried about you.” 

Hermione frowned and gently pulled her fingers through his hair. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

With a kiss to the curve of her hip and a long yawn, Finn withdrew his arm from around Hermione’s waist and rolled over, leaving her free to slip out of their bed. She smiled down at the slumbering blond before nicking a shirt from his closet and slipping it over her head. The soft cotton t-shirt swished around her thighs as she padded through the quiet flat and into the kitchen. 

It was dimly lit by a handful of candles she couldn’t remember seeing before, and Antonin was sitting at the bar, his head resting atop folded arms with a half-empty glass of water nearby. She tiptoed past his sleeping form and quietly retrieved a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and taking a long sip. 

She watched the steady rise and fall of Antonin’s breathing as she slowly drank her water, contemplating life with an intensity that only seemed possible in the small hours of the morning. 

From what she could recall from the previous night, the three of them hadn’t engaged in penetrative sex. 

In fact, the last thing Hermione recalled was straddling Finn’s lap while their combined attentions resulted in the most intense orgasm of her entire life. After that, her memory was blank. The characteristic ache between her thighs was absent, so she thought it highly unlikely that anyone had fucked her, but it still made her feel uneasy that she couldn’t remember. And then, Thorfinn mentioned he was worried about her which only served to increase the slowly growing ball of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. 

Coupled with not remembering all of what happened between the three of them and the fact that she felt more conflicted than ever about her feelings for them, Hermione was on the verge of panic. Her breathing grew more unsteady and her hands shook. She tried to set the nearly empty glass on the counter, but it shattered at her feet when it slipped from her hand, jolting Antonin awake. 

“Hermione?” Antonin was standing now, glancing between her and the bits glass on the floor, glittering in the dim light of the flickering candles. “Oh, fuck. Don’t move.” He grabbed his wand and carefully vanished the glass. 

Her body felt weak and blood rushed through her ears as her heart pounded in her chest. “Are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet.” Hermione swayed on her feet until she felt a pair of strong arms wrap firmly around her, pressing her cheek against his bare chest. 

A hand rubbed soothing circles over her back. “Breathe,  _ solnsyhko.  _ That’s it. Deep breaths. In and out.” He drew a deep breath and blew it out slowly, Hermione trying to match the cadence of his breathing with her own as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. “You’re safe,  _ solnyshko. _ I promise.”    
  
Slowly, the rush of blood through her ears calmed and the swell of panic receded, though the tears continued to fall. “I don’t—”

“I’ve got you.” One of Antonin’s arms shifted and he picked her up, setting her gently atop the counter. His lips pressed against the crown of her head and he kept one hand on her back as he examined her legs, finding several small cuts on her calves and feet. 

Hermione gasped as he grasped a knife from the block on the counter and sliced a gash in his own palm, dark red droplets pooling in the curve of his hand. “What are you doing!”

“Making sure I don’t accidentally sever your leg.” She stared at him in confusion as he grasped his wand again, pointing it at his palm. The haunting melody and lyrics of a healing spell were called forth from his lips and Hermione watched, mesmerized as the blood was siphoned away the skin began to knit itself closed. When all that remained on his palm was a small, pink scar, Antonin gingerly lifted one of her feet and began to close each tiny gash in turn until all were healed and any bits of embedded glass were levitated to the bin. 

“Y—You’re magic, it… it came back?” Hermione brow knit as she watched him work. 

Antonin smiled at her from his kneeling position in front of her, “Yes,  _ solnyshko _ . It appears that way.” The tenderness at which he treated her wounds sent her heart aflutter, causing a new pang of guilt to run through her body.

Hermione wiped her wet and heated cheeks with the backs of her hands, and stared down quietly at her feet. “I”m sorry,” she whispered. 

Antonin slotted himself between Hermione’s legs and his fingers threaded into her curls as he tilted her head back. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

The pads of his thumbs swiped over her cheeks as his dark eyes flicked between her lips and eyes. Her fingers curled around the edge of the granite as she leaned forward, brushing her lips over his. It was sweet and tentative, but he didn’t hesitate to return this kiss. Hermione knew what she was doing was wrong. She shouldn’t want to kiss him, shouldn’t  _ want _ Antonin when Finn was waiting just down the hall for her to climb back into his bed. But each press of his lips to hers silenced the uneasy feeling deep within her core and told her that she was exactly where she was meant to be. 

Where Finn took what he wanted, directing her every move and devouring her with each pass of their lips, Antonin was steady and solid, slowly building the sweet gesture into something that sparked with fire and life. It threatened to consume her, and she felt him smile against her lips when she attempted to press her thighs together to calm the pulsing within her center, only to squeeze his legs from where he stood between them. 

Antonin pulled back, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and feathering his lips over his forehead. “How are you feeling?” 

Hermione ducked her head, embarrassment colouring her cheeks. “I don’t know what came over me. It hasn’t… not since a few months after the end of the war.” 

His hand cupped her cheek and she was greeted with a soft smile when he tilted her head up once more. “Don’t hide from me,  _ solnyshko _ . I will be the last person to judge you.” 

“What does that mean? That word you keep calling me?” 

Hermione could have easily gotten lost in the way his eyes lit up when he told her “Small sun.”

“Oh.” Did he really see her that way, as some bright and shining thing in the heavens that drew the orbit of other celestial bodies? The mere thought of it made her head spin. 

“Don’t think on it too hard, Hermione.” 

She nodded, the heels of her feet tapping against the cabinets below. “I don’t remember what happened last night.” 

Confusion flashed through his gaze and he gathered her in his arms, evidently seeing something in her own that made him concerned. He quietly explained what happened, the flutter of his lips against the crown of her head and the rumble in his chest as he spoke helping to soothe her. 

“My magic has been out of control for weeks, though it feels more settled now.” 

“Ours too.” 

“But Finn said—”

Antonin shook his head, “It’s not the wards, Hermione. We had them checked days ago by a specialist. I don’t know entirely what is going on, but it’s happening to all three of us.” 

The feeling of panic began to well in her chest once more at the implications as twenty different possibilities zinged through her mind, none of them good. Her chest began to rise and fall with each short breath until Antonin pressed his lips against hers and she stilled, sinking into the feeling of him and her, the rest of the world fading away. 

Nimble fingers threaded through her curls as Antonin’s lips pillowed against hers, his tongue parting the seam to slip inside. She reached out, threading her arms around his neck while one of his hands slipped down her back and pulled her impossibly closer. The crescendo built and small whimpers were pulled from her throat with each pass of Antonin’s tongue and pull of his lips until the moment was shattered when Finn’s voice broke the still silence of the early morning. 

“What’s going on here?” 


	11. Chapter 11

It was the sound of glass shattering that initially jolted Finn awake and sleepy memories of Hermione needing a glass of water floated back through his mind. He thought he must have dreamt the noise because it was not followed by the sounds of a scream or a curse and Thorfinn resolved to go back to sleep. His witch said she would be back soon and he had no reason to doubt her. 

But as he lay there, waiting to feel the dip in the bed and warmth of her body pressed against his, he began to grow worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had woken up from a phantom sound, but coupled with the absence of his witch, Thorfinn decided to check on her. She was probably perfectly safe, maybe decided to make a cup of tea instead of just get a quick glass of water. 

He rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes, adjusting his sweats before walking through the open door to find Hermione. The sound of voices made him pause.

“Don’t think on it too hard, Hermione.” 

Hermione nodded, the heels of her feet tapping against the cabinets below. “I don’t remember what happened last night.” 

Finn’s brow furrowed. She didn’t remember? Apart from teasing her to the point of a magic outburst, it had been one of the most erotic experiences of his life. Watching Antonin’s thick head of dark hair move between Hermione’s thighs had struck something in him he hadn’t felt before and slowly, the pieces began to add up. After he tucked Hermione into his bed, he went to the study to pull down several of the hand written journals he had brought from his ancestral home, once long forgotten in their attic. He and Antonin discussed what was happening between the three of them for hours. 

He watched as Antonin gathered Hermione against his chest, the other wizard’s hand rubbing soothing circles over Hermione’s back as he kissed the crown of her head. 

“My magic has been out of control for weeks, though it feels more settled now.” 

“Ours too.” 

“But Finn said—”

Antonin shook his head, “It’s not the wards, Hermione. We had them checked days ago by a specialist. I don’t know entirely what is going on, but it’s affecting the three of us.” 

Thorfinn crossed his arms and nodded from where he watched them from the shadows. After the death of Antonin’s parents, he’d missed out on the bulk of the familial education all pureblood parents passed down to their heirs. There was much he had to explain to Antonin when they reviewed the journals last night. 

He watched as Hermione’s posture stiffened and her eyes grew wide.  _ Gryffindors _ . His witch wouldn’t have lasted a day in Slytherin. She showed her emotions so plainly on her face and it was clear the realization that all three of them were having bouts of magical instability was concerning. He would have calmly explained what was happening, but Antonin seemed to have other ideas when his fingers sunk into Hermione’s thick curls and he kissed her. 

A soft smile graced Finn’s lips as he watched the two of them. They looked bloody  _ good _ together, he couldn’t deny that. Now that he had an idea of what was happening between the three of them, and the high possibility that ancient magic was affecting the three of them together, his jealousy and anger had dissipated. It made sense and more than that, it  _ felt right _ , which was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all. 

The sounds falling from Hermione’s lips were beautiful, but he’d rather they not get naked without him, so he stepped out of the shadows of the hallway and crossed the open living space to the kitchen. 

“What’s going on here?” 

Hermione pulled back, her eyes wide as she attempted to sputter out an answer, unable to meet his eyes. “I... we were… I don’t…” Circe, she was adorable. 

“She’s already had one panic attack, I was attempting to head off a second,” Antonin stepped away from where Hermione sat on the kitchen counter, allowing Finn the opportunity to slot himself between her legs and wrap his arms around her. She was stiff in his arms, but that was expected. It was clear that Hermione thought what she and Antonin had been doing was wrong. It was also clear that Antonin had yet to explain to her exactly what was going on between the three of them. 

Finn breathed in the sweet scent of his witch as he rubbed her back, catching the faint scent of Antonin’s cologne lingering around her. He smiled and drew her in for a kiss, pillowing his lips against hers sweetly. 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” he told her, his lips brushing over the swell of her cheek. “I promise, everything is okay.” 

She nodded, drawing a deep breath before resting her head against his shoulder. Once her breathing slowed, Finn kissed down the side of her neck. He smirked against it as she released a whimpering breath as his lips ghosted over her pulse point.

“Do you still want this, love?” 

It was as if she was afraid that if she admitted that she wanted to continue what they had started earlier that Finn would get angry with her when she replied with a quiet, “Yes.” Anger was the last thing on his mind as he hummed approvingly against the soft skin of her neck before lifting her off of the counter. Finn pulled her legs around his waist, his arms wrapping around her torso to rest on her back and hip as he carried her from the kitchen, Antonin behind them. 

He and Antonin had already discussed that due to the logistics of this arrangement, they would need the bigger bed and the space that Antonin’s room provided. When Finn walked past his own room and shouldered open the door of Antonin’s, Hermione didn’t seem phased. An ornately carved bed covered in pristine white linens sat in the center of the room. It was easily big enough for three people, possibly even four and had belonged to Antonin’s parents before they passed. Even though it seemed somewhat out of place in their modern flat, Antonin refused to part with it, and rightfully so. 

A small smile passed over Hermione’s lips when Finn tossed her down onto the middle of the bed, her eyes seeming to take in the unfamiliar space, especially the carvings on the posters of the bed. He watched her with amusement until he heard the click of the door closing, turning to give Antonin a small nod. 

Finn wasted little time, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweats and dropping them to the floor, allowing his semi-hard cock to swing free. He caught Hermione’s appreciative gaze as her eyes scanned over his body, making him twitch in anticipation as he slotted his cock into his fist. As much as he loved being inside of his witch, this moment was meant for Hermione and Antonin and he wanted— _ needed _ his best friend to know exactly what he felt each time his cock dragged through the slick warmth of her cunt. They were both nervous she might have an episode like earlier, but the only way to find out was to let things happen as they were meant to. 

Hermione propped herself up on her forearms and wiggled her hips against the bed, all traces of the shy witch gone only to be replaced with the vixen he adored. The sight of the smirk on her face made Finn chuckle, “Impatient there, princess?” 

“Maybe,” she teased, her eyes flicking back and forth between his eyes, his cock, and Antonin. She collapsed back against the bed and drew her fingers along the hem of the shirt she was wearing, sliding it up just enough until her slick pink folds were bared to them as she opened her legs. She whimpered as her fingers brushed over her center causing the heat deep within Finn’s belly to spike.

Finn’s gaze was drawn to Antonin as he watched Hermione spread her legs and explore her folds with two fingers. Something significant stirred within him as Antonin palmed himself through his pants before also dropping the remainder of his clothing on the floor, leaving the naughty witch on the bed the only one with a scrap of cloth between them. Finn took in Antonin’s darkened gaze, and he could only imagine the things his best mate wanted to do Hermione, before his eyes drifted down to where Antonin’s hand fisted his cock. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen Antonin’s prick before, but watching him palm his erection while watching Hermione writhe on the bed stirred a heat within Thorfinn that he wasn’t prepared to deal with. It made him nervous. 

Finn shook the thoughts from his head, and wrapped his hands around Hermione’s wrist, countering her pout with a grin as he pulled her hands away from her sex. “Naughty witch,” he teased as he crawled into Antonin’s bed, positioning himself against the headboard with his legs spread. He beckoned Hermione to come to him with a wave of his hand and grinned when she crawled in his direction on her hands and knees. 

When she rose to a tall kneel, Finn lifted the shirt up and over her body, discarding it onto the floor with the rest of their clothing, not missing the sharp intake of breath that came from Antonin once Hermione was fully bared to them. 

He dropped a kiss against her lips, “Lay down with your back against me, love,” and gestured for her to turn before gently guiding her back. She settled between his legs, the warmth of her back pressing against him as his cock slotted between her shoulder blades and his belly.

His fingers combed through her tangled curls as Antonin made his way onto the bed, suddenly shy in his movements. Finn reached over the witch in his lap, hands sliding down her torso to curl around her thighs. He spread them wide and hooked her feet over his legs, keeping her open and ready for what was to come. Though he couldn’t see her expressions from how she was nestled against him, he felt her stiffen slightly and he dragged his fingers through her folds, pulling kittenish mewls from her lips. He watched his best friend curl his fingers around Hermione’s leg, trailing soft kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, until he reached the sweet center at the apex. 

Hermione felt like putty in his hands when he felt the puffs of breath from Antonin’s mouth ghost over his teasing fingers, slick with Hermione’s essence. He held them out and nearly jumped out of his own skin when Antonin’s tongue cleaned the sticky liquid from his fingers. Gods, if he wasn’t hard before, he was like granite now and they had barely begun. Drawing his fingers up Hermione’s torso, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake, Finn palmed her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers as Antonin’s head dipped between her legs. He felt his witch shudder with pleasure as Antonin licked a long stripe up the middle of her cunt. 

Thorfinn had been a voyeur for as long as he could remember, but watching Antonin tease Hermione with each stroke of his tongue seemed to heighten the experience to a level he had never experienced. He felt precum leak from his prick and onto Hermione’s back by the time Antonin pulled away and moved to kiss Hermione. 

Finn grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips as Antonin’s tongue caressed Hermione’s and Finn felt a crackle of lightning zipped along his spine, forcing a heady groan to fall from him. 

As much as Finn wanted to pick Hermione up from his lap and bury himself within her, he reminded himself to be patient. The release he craved would come with time. 

When Antonin rose to his knees, Finn caught a brief flash of the pretty pink of Hermione’s cheeks when she arched her back and tilted her head. A line of saliva trailed from Antonin’s mouth, streaming over Hermione’s folds until he grasped his cock in his hand and eased it through the slick warmth without pressing forward into her.

“Please, please please,” she begged as Antonin continued to tease her, brushing the head of his cock over her clit while Finn pinched and pulled at her nipples. 

Antonin’s hand grasped Finn’s shoulder for leverage when he finally buried himself within Hermione and time seemed to stop. They were frozen in place as the scatter of electricity heated Finn’s skin and pulled a contented purr from his lips while a curse was exhaled from Antonin’s.

“Fuck, Hermione.”

Finn smirked, exchanging a glance with his best mate as he remembered the feeling of sinking into his witch for the first time. It had bordered on euphoric, as though she had been made just for him, though if the journals held any insight, perhaps she had been made for  _ them. _

With a hand slipped between his abdomen and her shoulder blades, Finn gently pressed Hermione upwards, transferring her momentarily into Antonin’s arms, so he could shift out from beneath her. He watched Antonin lay Hermione back against the white bed linens and cover her with his body, as Finn gripped his own aching, pulsing member in his hand. It was easy to see the ripples of pleasure coursing over Hermione’s body, as Antonin slowly began to move, each drag of his cock within the witch drawing raw sounds of pleasure from the Russian wizard’s mouth. It was one of the most erotic things Finn had ever seen and he stroked himself in time to the steady rhythm of Antonin’s thrusts. 

He slid off of the bed, mesmerized by the sight of watching Antonin’s fingers thread into Hermione’s hair, holding her in place, as he fucked her. Standing at the edge of the bed, Finn gripped his cock in his hand and simply enjoyed the view, listening to the sweet sounds of Hermione’s pleasure and the low rumble of Antonin’s fill his ears. Releasing Hermione’s hair, Antonin sank back onto his haunches, hands sliding over the witch’s body beneath him until he could curl his fingers around her hips and thrust into her once more. The change in angle caused a cry to spill over Hermione’s plump lips and fill the room as her back arched. 

She was close. 

Her hands gripped Antonin’s forearms, hips meeting his at each thrust and Thorfinn smiled at how wanton she’d become. She was a mess and he  _ loved _ it. Incoherent syllables, their names, and her moans filled the space as she climbed higher towards her inevitable peak but a shared glance between Finn and Antonin was all it took to hold her just at the edge. Antonin’s thrusts slowed and the tips of Thorfinn’s fingers teased the sensitive skin of her breasts, lightly tickling and tracing her areolas and nipples. 

He bent over and pressed his lips along her sweat-slicked forehead while his hand drew hers to his cock. The feel of her small fingers wrapping around him nearly made him growl with a ferocity he hadn’t known he possessed. He kissed her nose and nuzzled against it as her fist drew erratic strokes over his prick, whispering, “Can I fuck your mouth, love?” between sweet kisses pressed to her cheeks.

Her eyes flew open, and she nodded, the word ‘please’ clearly poised on the tip of her tongue, though another soft moan cut off any chance she had at uttering the word. 

“Ant, can I—”

Antonin groaned, his thick cock glistening with her slick as he pulled out. Together, they flipped her over and Antonin tugged her hips up roughly before immediately sinking back into her with a contented sigh as if he wanted to remain buried in her cunt until the end of days. Smiles were exchanged between the two men as Finn kneeled on the bed in front of Hermione and positioned the head of his cock against Hermione’s pouty lips. He teased her with it, tapping the sensitive tip against her lips until her tongue darted out to flick over the head. Pretty lips parted and his fingers wrapped around her curls as he slowly sank his cock into her waiting mouth. 

It was bliss, pure and simple. The way her tongue trailed over the thick veins to the soft feel of the back of her throat, filled him with something akin to euphoria. Just the warmth of her mouth alone was enough for his bollocks to tighten. When she moaned around him as Antonin’s hand began toying with her clit, he could have come right there. But as it stood, he nearly choked on his next intake of breath and counted backwards from ten in his mind so he wouldn’t spill his load so soon down her throat. 

He nearly did when he felt her hand curl around his bollocks, massaging the sensitive sac with her fingers until he pressed further into her mouth, holding himself at the back of her throat until he was able to regain control of himself. His witch had a way of shattering any sense of control he had with the simplest motions. It made him wonder exactly how Antonin would take to that if and when the other man took her to his own bed without Finn there. He expected Hermione would not be able to sit the next day. 

He pulled back and allowed her a moment to catch her breath before he pushed back into the warmth of her mouth once more, each pass of Hermione’s tongue pulling him closer to the edge. 

Antonin gritted his teeth, evidently just as close to the edge as he was. “Hermione, please come. I need you to come for me.” 

Finn was glad he wasn’t the only one in this predicament. “Pinch her clit and she’s there. Where do you want our come, love?” His hand stroked her cheek lovingly as she continued to bob up and down his engorged length. She gripped onto his arse holding him to her mouth, preventing him from pulling away, and he thanked the fucking stars for this witch.

“Good girl, Hermione, gaggin on your boyfriend’s cock while his best mate takes your pretty little pussy.” She peered at him through her lashes, the apples of her cheeks flushed pink and the sight of her lips wrapped around his length causing him to groan. 

Finn thrust gently into her mouth, slowly losing the cadence he had previously set. His eyes met Antonin’s and something passed between the two of them when Hermione’s orgasm hit. It was like a ripple, moving outward from the witch between them and moving over them like soft waves lapping at serene beaches. Antonin’s hand clamped down into his shoulder as Finn’s did the same, each using the other as leverage to remain upright as they came undone. The room filled with what felt like a thick, all encompassing fog as Hermione’s mouth contracted around him, swallowing every drop of his spend down her throat. 

Finn had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the fingerprint bruises along Hermione’s hips when the lights in the room went out, shrouding them in darkness save for the bit of moonlight filtering in from the window. 

“Fuck,” Finn swore, gently pulling his cock from between Hermione’s lips, barely able to see the contented expression on her face before she sunk down against the soft bed linens. He sank down to a low kneel and lovingly ran his fingers through Hermione’s curls, his thumb brushing over the high of her cheek on occasion as he looked to Antonin. 

“Alright, mate?” 

The other wizard smiled, something soft and content which was something Finn rarely saw on his friend’s face and he immediately knew they had made the right decision. Love for his friend swelled in his heart when Antonin replied, “Never better.” 

Antonin gingerly lowered Hermione’s hips to the bed, massaging his hands over her legs which Finn suspected were sore before calling his wand to his hand and casting a simple cleansing charm over the three of them. 

Finn shifted his legs, so as not to accidentally kick the witch in the middle of Antonin’s bed and sat behind her. “Did you enjoy that, princess?” 

The lack of response made him chuckle when he saw the slow rise and fall of her chest and he realized she was already back asleep.

“Fuck, I know I did.” Antonin replied, moving to lay down on one side of Hermione, opposite of Finn.

“That was bloody amazing. I wasn’t even in her pussy and that was one of the best times I have ever experienced.” Finn chuckled lightly, his eyes flicking between his best friend and the small, sleepy witch between them. “Mind if we just crash here?” 

Antonin drew his hand over the curve of Hermione’s hip, the moonlight and shadows rippling over his hand as he caressed her sweetly. “I was going to suggest it. No use in disturbing her. We need to talk to her about this in the morning, anyway. She needs to know what you read in that journal.” 

Finn sank fully down onto the bed and snuggled against his witches’ side. “Yes, we will,” he yawned, “In the morning. Maybe after round two.” 

“I definitely wouldn’t mind a second go.” Antonin yawned almost as soon as Finn’s finished. “Gonna have to fix the lights in the morning again.” Finn nodded as Antonin placed a hand on Hermione’s back. In her sleep, she scooted closer to him, until she was perfectly situated with her head against his chest. One arm cradled her against him while his other hand settled on her hip. 

Finn sidled up behind her, effectively sandwiching the witch between them as his hand came to rest just below Antonin’s. “G’night mate.” 

“Goodnight, Finn.”

…….

Hermione woke up while it was still dark, though she could just make out the beginnings of sunrise through the opening in the curtains. Finn was possessively draped over her back, and Antonin had her cradled against him in the front. She knew it would be hard to sneak out from between them, especially given that their hands had linked together over her body sometime during the night. She lightly pressed a cold hand to Finn’s forearm and his hand dropped Antonin’s just before he rolled onto his other side allowing her the moment she needed to sneak out of bed. 

She quietly left Antonin’s room and walked the short distance to the loo. As she relieved her bladder, her elbows balanced on her knees and her head fell into her hands as she thought back on everything that had happened the previous night. 

The awkward start of their evening. Not remembering what happened. The panic attack. Finn catching Antonin kissing her and somehow brushing it off as okay. The mindblowing sex with both of them. 

The feel of Antonin buried within her was brought back as she washed her hands and the subtle ache between her thighs made itself known. She could see the fingerprint bruises lining her hips from his tight grip and flush of arousal flooded through her with the memory. 

She exited the washroom and walked back into Antonin’s room. The men were still sound asleep, neither had moved since she had left the space between them. The warmth she felt when she looked at Finn was something that had been there since almost the beginning, but panic bloomed in her chest as the feelings she held for Antonin crashed into her full force. 

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as she realized the weight of the situation. 

She couldn’t have both men. When they had talked about the three of them having sex it was understood that this was to be a singular occurence. Finn would never forgive her if she told him how she felt for his best mate, and Antonin would never be with her after she inevitably broke Finn’s heart. 

She was stuck between a rock and a hard place and no matter which avenue she examined in her mind, someone always got hurt. 

This was a mistake. Now that she knew how it felt to be with them together, she wasn’t certain she would want anything else. She wanted  _ both  _ of them and she knew that was impossible. No man in his right mind would share a witch with another one, she’d been the one to cause the rift in their friendship in the first place because she couldn’t keep her bloody hands to herself around Antonin. 

Hermione  _ shouldn’t _ feel this way, but she couldn’t help it. Rationally, she knew it was one man and one woman or two partners together. Not three.  _ Never three. _

She rushed out of the room again, as quietly as her feet would carry her and she summoned her clothing. She slipped into one of Finn’s t-shirts before taking the floo back to her home before either of them had a chance to wake up and find her missing from the bed. 

As soon as she landed in her living room, the gravity of her actions fell over her in waves, consuming her. Hermione closed the floo and dropped to the floor, her emotions taking over all logical thought as tears streamed down her cheeks and panic welled in her throat. Her fists grasped at Finn’s t-shirt and she sobbed, mourning the loss of two men she knew she knew she would never have because of her foolish heart.

After an undetermined amount of time, Hermione managed to crawl over to the couch and sink into the plush cushions before exhaustion lulled her to sleep. 

……

The sun was bright in the sky when Antonin awoke and reached over in the bed to find the space between him and Finn empty and cold. When his hand didn’t make contact with the warm witch who fell asleep so sweetly nestled against him, he frowned. Hermione had obviously left their bed a long while before. 

He got up and pulled on a pair of lounge pants from his dresser and padded sleepily down the hall towards the kitchen hoping to find her there awake and reading a book. But much to his displeasure, the kitchen was empty and dark and perhaps even more unsettling, there was no sign of Hermione. His eyes trailed over the sofas in the living area, but her form was nowhere to be found. 

Antonin sighed as he heard the gentle thud of feet down the hall signaling Finn was awake. Pulling his fingers through his hair, he turned on bare feet to look at Finn, who had evidently gone to his room as well as he was clad similarly in a pair of sweats. 

“She gone?” Finn murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Think so.” 

Finn tried to toss a bit of powder in the floo, calling out Hermione’s address, but the flames dissipated, indicating her floo connection was blocked. Antonin watched as anger flashed across Thorfinn’s face, his hand slamming down against the mantle causing the pictures to rattle in their frames. “Guess she doesn’t want to talk to us. What the fuck did we do to deserve that?” 

Antonin crossed the space and settled a hand on Finn’s shoulder. Just a few hours ago Hermione seemed perfectly content to share a bed with the two of them, but Antonin thought back further to the panic that had welled up inside of her and had an inkling of why she was gone. 

It was his fault. It had to be. If only he could have kept his own feelings under control, kept his distance, then she would still be here. Even if she was only in his life as a friend— 

Frustration bubbled up within him and quickly turned to anger. He didn’t want Hermione in his life as only a friend, not a month ago and certainly not after last night. There was something there, some brilliant shining thing just beneath the pretty brown of her irises that called to him and told him that everything they had read in those journals was true. And even if she hadn’t known, she shouldn’t have run. She should have stayed and spoken to them about her fears. Just like everyone else in his life, apart from Finn, she had left him… and she hadn’t even been his to begin with. 

Before he knew it. Finn’s arms were wrapped around him. The embrace was strong and comforting, just as it always was. “Hey, look. I’m not upset with you. Neither one of us could have predicted her acting that way.” 

Finn gently guided him over the sofa and they sat down, side by side with Finn’s arm still wrapped around his shoulder. “We'll keep trying until she sits down and listens to us about the triad thing. Then, we will let her decide if she wants us both.”

Antonin shook his head, “How the fuck could she just leave?” 

Thorfinn pulled his arm from around Antonin’s shoulder for the sole purpose of knocking him with his shoulder. “Who knows why witches do anything? And if it’s too much for her, then we go back to prowling for women who will be willing to carry our sprogs, and hope like hell we can move on. I mean witches kill for that single dad thing right?” 

Antonin finally cracked a smile. “I’m sure they do.” 

Finn smiled in return though it didn’t reach his eyes, “All jokes aside, I think she’s it for me, and if those journals have any merit, she will come back to us. She  _ has _ to.” 


	12. Chapter 12

The Healer’s office hummed with magic as the witch swished, flicked, twirled, and twisted her wand over Hermione’s prone form. A complicated array of colours and runes appeared overhead, pulsing and changing with each new layer of diagnostic charms as the Healer attempted to determine the cause of Hermione’s magical instability. 

Warm brown eyes flicked over the diagnostic display floating over her, but apart from the subtle shifts of her eyebrows, Hermione’s Healer gave nothing away. She appeared indifferent, at best, but there wasn’t a particle of confusion or clarity to be found anywhere on the wizened woman’s face. 

She expected that. Some brilliant “Aha!” moment that would mean the end to all of her troubles, but instead, she got a practised smile and a calm, near detached tone. “I see absolutely nothing wrong with your magical core or anything that could point to the magical instability you have reported experiencing. We see magical instability occurring during adulthood most often when there is someone new in a person's life and the two magical cores are attempting to assimilate, though there is rarely any diagnostic evidence to support the occurrence. After a while, it usually calms down and everything goes back to normal.” 

“You should keep whoever is causing your magic to act out around, they are obviously good for you.” The Healer gestured to a particular set of runes in a dark purple colour. “The traces of dark magic in your system are at an all-time low compared to when I saw you six months ago—” She flicked her hand over another arrangement of runes, “—and truly, Ms. Granger, you are in perfect health.” 

The Healer vanished the array and Hermione sat up on the small dark magenta hospital cot just as the Healer grasped the knob to the door. “If there are any significant changes, come back and see me. Otherwise, I will see you in six months.” 

Before Hermione could so much as ask a question or even nod, the elderly witch in lime-green robes disappeared through the door. For several moments, she sat there, staring at the innocuous bit of hinged wood the Healer left through as she processed everything the witch had said. The most surprising of which was that the traces of dark magic in her body were at an all-time low. Still, nothing the Healer said explained the magical instability she was experiencing. 

The only thing she could conclude was that somehow Antonin’s presence in her life was causing the lingering effects of his own curse to diminish. She couldn’t explain why it was happening but she suspected that Finn wouldn’t be pleased, especially since she held feelings for _both_ of them. 

It was an impossible, _unfathomable_ situation and the days she had taken away from the pair of them had done little to clear her head. 

As she exited the building, she texted Daphne, hoping that her friend was off work today so she could talk to her about everything that had happened knowing that she really needed a vent session with one of her best friends.

> **Hermione:** _Breakfast? Need someone to talk to…_
> 
> **Daphne:** _Is this a Mimosa kind of breakfast, where I invite Pansy over and we binge and eat, or the kind where tea is involved?_
> 
> **Hermione:** _Mimosa, definitely Mimosas._
> 
> **Daphne:** _I’ll call Pansy! See you in an hour? Draco is leaving for work, so he won’t be bothering us today._
> 
> **Hermione:** _You’re the best. Thank you._

Hermione’s exit from the Floo was ungraceful at best, but it didn’t seem to matter that she stumbled because she was immediately enveloped in a hug by a mass of blonde curls. She sagged into the embrace and breathed out a bit of her stress in a sigh.“Hi, Daph,” she muttered

Daphne pulled away, a wide grin on her face as she placed a palm against Hermione’s cheek, “I have missed you! That boyfriend of yours is keeping you tied up, isn’t he?” 

A small smile cross Hermone’s lip at the likely intentional double entendre.“That’s actually what I am here about.” 

Daphne tutted, handing her a glass of champagne with a splash of peach nectar instead of the traditional orange juice. “No no, wait for Pansy. She will go mad if we start without her. She was gathering a bag for the baby and then she and the kids were coming over. I told her that Mipsy could watch Albie and Jamie so she could have a break. Circe knows Harry doesn’t give her one and Kreacher shouldn’t be trusted with _any_ responsibilities, let alone an infant.” 

Hermione chuckled as they walked out of the receiving room and through a short hallway to one of Daphne’s favorite terraces, overlooking the gardens. Shortly after they were seated at a table filled with finger-foods under statis, they heard the screech of little James. 

“Auntie Daph! Auntie Hermione!” 

Hermione grinned wide, standing to scoop up the three-year-old when he landed against her legs with a thump. “Hi Jamie, I missed you, little man!” 

She dropped a kiss to his cheek and playfully ruffled his untidy hair, so similar to his father’s. The little boy gigged and wiped the kiss of his cheek with the back of his hand, making an overexaggerated sound of disgust. 

“You can have him. For a whole month if you want to, I’ll allow it.” Pansy sighed, baby Albus tucked into her arm seemingly asleep as she approached Hermione to give her a quick side hug. Hermione set James down so he could greet Daphne before transfiguring one of the many potted plants into a bassinet for the baby. 

“You're an angel,” Pansy said as she tucked Albus carefully into the transfigured bassinet. “I think you swish differently than me. Yours are always much softer.” 

She gave Pansy a sheepish smile and a shrug of her shoulders because she didn’t want to say it was because she’d spent hours practicing the spell during the middle of a breakdown on the day after Pansy announced her first pregnancy. She transfigured nearly every item in her kitchen into a bassinet, a child-friendly toy, or a bottle as she drank two bottles of wine and tried to forget that she couldn’t have children of her own. 

Daphne handed Pansy a Mimosa, James balanced on her hip. “Drink this, then I will have Mipsy come and get Jamie and the baby.” 

Pansy tilted her head back and the Mimosa was gone faster than it likely took Daphne to make it. “It’s fine, he’s due to wake up in about a half-hour and will want my tit anyway. Mipsy can have him after he’s fed.” 

Hermione nearly choked on her drink while Daphne barked a laugh so loud it made the baby stir. “How you were the first of us to have children is beyond me. Mipsy!”

A small elf with large ears and an impeccably clean tea-towel wrapped around her popped onto the terrace. “Missus Daphne is calling Mipsy?” 

Daphne kissed James on the forehead and set him down, ushering him toward the house-elf with a little pat to his back. “Can you please take Jamie to play in the nursery?” 

Hermione nearly had another breakdown the day she stumbled across the Malfoy nursery. It looked like something out of a film with the hand-hewn mahogany crib and map of the night sky overhead. It had been Draco’s when he was a baby until he had been moved to a proper suite of rooms but the staff of house-elves had maintained it. 

The little house-elf took James off through the house as Pansy glared at Daphne, holding her glass out for a refill, “If you could hurry up and get married and get knocked up by Draco so I can have mom playdates, that would be grand.” She lifted the newly filled glass to her lips for another sip. “The mum and baby groups I made the mistake of joining are horribly boring. Too many prim and proper pureblood wives who never have a hair out of place and obviously leave their children in the care of elves save for the hour per week they show them off at group.” 

“I’m lucky that both kids slept in an extra thirty minutes so I could have a shower quickie with my husband and actually wash my hair before they woke up.” 

Hermione smiled into her glass and watched as her friend finished out a second Mimosa. Of the three of them, none of them thought it would be Pansy who had children first and Merlin knew she was more than capable of keeping her little family in line.

Pansy sighed, glancing into the empty champagne flute before settling into a chair at the table and beginning to pick through the finger foods on the multi-tiered trays. “I forgot how good these things were. Anyway, I know this emergency meeting was called because Hermione _actually_ wants to talk about something going on in her life, so please don’t let me stop you.” 

Hermione nearly fell back into her chair, but not before grabbing a pastry from the tray. “I don’t even know where to begin…” 

Daphne cleared her throat, being much more meticulous in her selection and swatting Pansy’s hand away when the other witch tried to claim both chocolate croissants. “You could start with a name.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped her head back against the iron frame of the chair, the pastry dangling from her fingers. “Fine… but I need you to listen to me when I tell you that he is _nothing_ like the man we knew, absolutely _nothing._ He is sweet and amazing, and I’m the one who fucked it up.” 

“For the sake of time, tell us the fucking name, Hermione.” Pansy said, tearing off a piece of puff pastry and popping it into her mouth.

Daphne pointined the pair of serving tongs at Pansy, her eyes narrow as she chided their friend.“She’s never going to come to us when she needs to talk if you continue on like that!” 

Pansy didn’t flinch, only taking another pointed bite of her pastry. 

“Who he is isn’t even the worst part.” Hermione sat up and took a large audible gup of her drink for courage, “I have been seeing Thorfinn Rowle.” 

Were it not for the pastries in both of their mouths, their twin gasps would have been much louder. Before they could squawk about the fact that she was dating a former Death Eater, Hermione thought it best to explain. 

“Finn—” 

Daphne leaned over to Pansy with glee in her eyes and whispered, “Sweet Morgana she calls him Finn.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “— _Thorfinn_ was the one that brought me home from the bar that night that Daph passed out and one thing led to another—”

“Why doesn’t she ever just say she fucked someone?” Pansy snagged another bite of pastry from her plate. 

“Do you want to hear this or not?” Hermione leveled her gaze at the two witches before taking another drink from her flute. 

“Okay, okay, We’ll be good. Continue.” 

“We became exclusive that week and everything had been going fine until I had to work on a case with this curse breaker from Gringotts.” Hermione’s eyes darted between her friends as if daring them to say something but miraculously, both Pansy and Daphne held their commentary. 

“And, well. I kissed him.” 

“No!” 

“Goody Two-Shoes Granger kissed a boy that is _not_ her boyfriend… Brava, well done.”

“It gets worse.” Hermione closed her eyes and downed the rest of her mimosa, avoiding eye contact with her two friends. 

“How can it possibly—”

“The Curse-breaker… well it’s Antonin Dolohov.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a flurry of sharp syllables and short vowels. “And he’s Finn’s roommate… and best friend.” 

Daphne’s squeak was loud enough to make the baby stir while Pansy just laughed as she picked apart her pastry and dropped it into bite-sized pieces on her plate. “This is like a bloody Muggle soap opera. Please continue.” 

Hermione sighed and poured herself another drink from the pitcher on the table “Well, I kissed him and when we told Finn—”

“Wait! You informed your boyfriend of your own infidelity? Hermione Jean, have you learned nothing from those tawdry bodice-ripping romance novels I gifted you?” Daphne asked. 

“Draco would be appalled if he knew you read that filth. They aren’t even that good,” Pansy chided. 

“They’re leaps and bounds above those werewolf romances you read!” 

Hermione cleared her throat, effectively silencing her friends. “Yes, we told him and obviously his reaction was not good, but the worst part was that it felt _right_ with Antonin. More right than it should, considering—you know I have a boyfriend and all.” 

Concern coloured Daphne’s gaze. “Did it not feel right with Thorfinn?” 

Hermione shook her head as she felt her cheeks turn pink. “It felt right with both of them…” 

She didn’t think it was possible for Pansy’s face to look any more devious, but Hermione was quickly proved wrong when the other witch leaned forward and looked as smug as a cat who got the cream.“Please tell me you ended up the meat in that man sandwich.” 

Daphne smacked Pansy on the arm causing the delicate fabric of her robes to wrinkle. “Pansy! Shut it, will you?” 

“I think the guilt was eating us both alive. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that horrible in my entire life. Antonin ended up leaving for three weeks for what he said was work after we told Finn, but I worry that he really left because of me. I hoped that these feelings I had were because of our work together on a case—just excitement, you know?” Hermione shook her head, “But I don’t think they were… are. The second I saw him again, the feelings came rushing back.” 

The way Pansy’s brow was arched made Hermione flinch, “I don’t mean lust… like, legitimate feelings. And they go both ways.”

“Are you sure?” Daphne’s hand settled on Hermione’s forearm. 

Hermione settled her hand on top of Daphne’s and squeezed it gently. “We talked about it. The entire situation between the three of us is just a mess.” 

Hermione looked between her two friends, the differences in their reactions to her sordid tale making her smile. Pansy’s dimpled cheeks still bore a sly smile as if she were expecting Hermione’s story to get even juicer (it would) and Daphne still looked concerned as if she were waiting for another stone to crumble (it would).

Pansy pulled a potion from her bag and grimaced at the taste as she drank it down before setting aside her mimosa glass with a huff and switching to water. 

“Antonin must have said something to Finn about how he feels because Finn asked if I would be okay with Antonin joining us in bed.” Hermione ignored the blatant jaw drops from both of her friends and continued. “His reasoning was to see if it was just something we needed to get out of our systems and I agreed, completely selfishly because I wanted to see what it was like to have… you know—a _threesome._ ” 

“I told you, Daph!” Pansy held her hand out and gestured toward Hermione, a laugh bubbling up from her throat, “It’s the quiet ones that have the best stories. Go on, Granger. I won’t be offended if you tell us how many veins are on both of their cocks.”

Daphne nearly growled as her eyes rolled upwards. “You are the worst, Hermione is having serious issues and you’re over here giggling about it.” 

“You may have never been around when the Dark Lord was roaming the halls of this house, but I was and I saw both of them and I, for one, am very curious about what their cocks look like.” 

Hermione wrinkled her nose, the memories of the night they shared flashing behind her eyes. “You’ll have to pry that memory out of my head, Pansy Potter because it is staying right there.” 

“Daph, do you think Dra—”

“Absolutely not!” Daphne shrieked so loud the baby started fussing and Pansy glared at her as she went to pick up Albus from the transfigured bassinet. “My fiancee is not prying a sex scene out of Hermione’s mind for your perusal.” 

Pansy considered Daphne for a moment and sighed as she adjusted her robes so Albus could latch. “He’d probably vomit. Too squeamish, that one.” She waved her hand after she positioned the baby in the correct position and he began feeding. “Go on, Granger. At least give us some details.” 

It was clear that if she didn’t give them something, they’d never be able to move on to the point where they might actually be able to _help her_ . “I slept with both of them, together. And it was really good. Antonin had me, you know… _regularly_ and Finn was in my mouth.” 

Daphne turned a shade of red Hermione was almost certain she had never seen before, her mouth opening and closing similarly to a fish while Pansy’s grin grew impossibly wider. 

“You got spit-roasted?” Pansy squealed and Hermione wished she’d never introduced the witch to Muggle pornography. If there was one thing she knew, it was that the wizarding world wasn’t quite so crass about sex as Pansy seemed to be now that she’d been, in her words not Hermione’s, _liberated._

Daphne rounded the table and covered Pansy’s mouth with her hand. “Keep it down, would you? I don’t need my future mother-in-law hearing any of this from the other wing!” 

It was muffled, but Hermione was able to clearly make it out, “Oh, Narcissa has definitely been spit-roasted by Snape and Lucius.” 

Hermione threw a biscuit at her, careful to avoid hitting the baby as Daphne threatened to silence her until Hermione was finished.

“One more word about how my future mother-in-law and her husband engage in carnal relations with… with… others and I will silence you. It’s awkward enough when the Professor joins us for breakfast, and we will get back to how you know later… but we are here for Hermione!” 

“Spoil-sport. Continue, Hermione.” 

Hermione sighed again. “The sex itself was great but when I woke up in the morning, everything was still muddled. I went to the loo and when I came back, I saw both of them and realized that my feelings for them are the same.”

The sight of them laying together in the bed, a space for her between them left her heart racing and her mind whirling. There was no separation between them in her mind. She wanted to be there, between them as _theirs_ but it was an impossibility. She couldn’t keep them both without hurting the other and in turn, hurting herself. It was meant to be a one-off, a way to sort out her feelings and while it did bring everything into clarity, it wasn’t the outcome she had been expecting. 

“And so, I ran. I know that if I tell them I have feelings for them both, I’ll lose both of them. I closed my floo, changed the wards… That was about four days ago.” Unshed tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, wetting her lashes and threatening to fall. “I think they have both sent owls, but I’ve not opened them. They’re going to be so angry…” 

Daphne rounded the table and draped her arms around Hermione from behind. “Oh Hermione, I am so sorry. This seems like such a mess.” 

The tears at the corners of her eyes, slid over her cheeks to fall into her lap. “It’s okay. It’s honestly all my fault, and I just don’t know what I turned into that _one_ man is not satisfying enough. Because he was—Finn was everything I needed, and so amazing and not just in the bedroom. But I know he wants kids someday, and I can’t give them to him, so maybe it’s better that I leave now... before I get too _attached_.” 

Hermione flicked her wrist toward her bag without thinking to summon a handkerchief and the entire tablecloth on the terrace table ripped, the force of the tear causing one of the trays of pastries to tumble over and knock over the pitcher of mimosas. 

Pansy jumped up from the table, Albus cradled against her to avoid the resulting splash and Daphne drew back and quickly began to clean up the mess with a few flicks of her wand. Hermione didn’t bother to move, the cold liquid soaking her skirts as all of the frustration and uncertainty she was feeling bubbled to the surface to leave her body through heavy tears. 

“And then this keeps happening! I can’t even do basic spells without causing damage to everything around me. It doesn’t matter if it’s with my wand or wandless. The healer says nothing is wrong with me, but I can’t even seem to function as a witch.” 

Pansy passed the baby to Daphne and righted her robes before wrapping her arms tightly around Hermione who continued to sob. She rubbed gentle circles over Hermione’s back and pulled her fingers through her curls as she held her close. “Shhh, it’s okay.” Daphne passed Pansy a handkerchief and Pansy dotted the tears from under Hermione’s eyes. “It will be okay.” 

Daphne leaned against the table and grabbed Hermione’s hand, the now snoozing baby tucked into her other arm. “Hermione darling, you have to talk to Finn. You have to tell him that while you have feelings for him, you also have feelings for Antonin.” 

Pansy kissed the top of Hermione’s head and passed her the handkerchief before taking Albus back from Daphne. “I agree. You know that polyamorous relationships are common in the wizarding world right? It’s just that they tend to be kept a secret for fear of scrutiny. But those former Gryffindors, Dean and Seamus? They are both in a relationship with Padma Patil. The only reason I know this is because I ran into them the other day, and they both slipped up and kissed her.” She smiled down at her son and gently laid him back in the transfigured bassinet.

She hadn’t known that. Not about Dean, Seamus and Padma nor that polyamory was common in the Wizarding world. She’d always assumed it would be similar to the Muggle world where monogamy reigned and it was frowned upon to have more than one partner. It helped soothe her somewhat, knowing that the possibility of a relationship with the two of them wasn’t quite as far-fetched as she hoped.

Daphne squeezed Hermione’s hand. “Do what feels right for you, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” 

Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes, giving her friends a small smile to let them know she was okay. “Thank you. It’s just… it’s been a lot.”

Pansy released her and settled back into her chair at the now righted table and popped a grape into her mouth, “Don’t think we haven’t forgotten that you had sex with two men. I’m going to need details.” 

Hermione groaned and leaned forward to lay her forehead against the table, “Pansy, really?” 

“Hey, I love Harry, but married sex is nothing compared to this _menage-a-trois_ you’ve got going on. I am living vicariously through my single friend. You are our last hope for raunchy sex stories.” 

Daphne chuckled and poured everyone another round of mimosas from the repaired ever-refilling pitcher. “Even in my most _needy_ times, Draco has always been more than I can handle, I can’t imagine needing two men to get me off.” 

Hermione blushed, suddenly feeling bold in front of her friends. “Well, let me start by saying that it was mind-blowing…” 


	13. Chapter 13

The stack of letters on the end table near her sofa was growing rather large. 

She would read them,  _ all of them _ ... eventually. She knew how she felt about Thorfinn and Antonin but she didn’t know how to proceed in whatever they were without someone’s heart getting broken, most likely her own. 

Another owl flew through the open window and with a heavy sigh, Hermione took the letter tied to it’s leg and fed it an owl treat. She didn’t need to turn it over to know it was another missive from Thorfinn… another to be added to the ever-growing pile since she’d fled their flat a few days ago. 

The dreams she had, even apart from the pair of them, were vivid, each leaving her breathless and wanting. It wasn’t the sex, but the intimate domesticity that tugged at her heartstrings of nights spent between them on the sofa watching a movie, or strolling along the Thames with ice-cream dripping down their hands in the summer. The dreams stayed with her, vivid and bright behind her eyes even when she was awake as if they were urging her to return to Antonin and Thorfinn’s flat. 

It finally took safely tucking her memories of the dreams away in a crystal vial for Hermione to focus enough to squeeze herself into the ridiculous corset bustier that Daphne insisted was highly necessary for bridesmaids dress shopping. 

In a swirl of apparition, she arrived outside the shop where Daphne insisted she would find the perfect dresses. Daphne's mother, Rhiannon Greengrass and her sister Astoria were already present along with Pansy and Narcissa.

Hermione greeted the group with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as Daphne buzzed with excited energy or perhaps a little too much champagne. With little ceremony, gowns were pulled from various racks and the three bridesmaids were shoved into dressing rooms. The shop was small, so Pansy and Hermione shared while Astoria, the most modest among them, changed in the other. 

Pansy grumbled as she uncomfortably shifted in her matching bustier. “I should make Daph put one of these on after retaining fifteen pounds of post-baby weight and show her how it feels to shove her lactating breasts in a top so tight her tits might pop like a bloody muggle water balloon” 

Hermione clutched at her sides laughing, “Please, don’t make me laugh it hurts.” 

Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes as she tugged the dress over her head, “Yeah tell that to my postpartum body and to Harry who insists I make brownies at least once a week. He knows I can’t resist licking the spoon  _ and  _ the bowl when I’m done which does nothing for my figure.” 

Hermione snickered and shimmied into the first dress Daphne had chosen as Pansy caught sight of herself in the mirror. Pansy’s fingers plucked at the expensive fabric, lifting the silk and letting it fall as she wrinkled her nose. “This is horrendous. I hope she is not serious about this colour. No one should have to walk around feeling like a bloody duckling, even if their friends are getting married.” 

Hermione held back a laugh as she looked over their reflections in the mirror, the canary yellow colour doing little for either of their complexions, though the silhouette wasn’t terrible.

Pansy muttered something Hermione couldn’t hear as she swung the dressing room door open, the two of them stepping out to stand in front of the bride-to-be.

Daphne’s eyes widened and she broke out into a fit of giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “Okay, definitely not.” 

Hermione and Pansy breathed in unison, “Thank fuck.” 

Astoria cringed, “Daphne, everything about this dress is high fashion right now. You should consider more elegant colours and classic styles. This shade of canary goes with almost anything, and if you are still planning on having the men in grey—”

“No,” Pansy interrupted before turning and storming back into the dressing room, looking ready to rip the gown off of her alabaster skin lest it somehow leave a stain.

After trying on five other dresses, all of which earned emphatic rejections from either Hermione or Pansy, the sales witch tried to narrow down a style that flattered all the witches with their differing body types. The women re-emerged from the dressing room in a pale blue dress that hugged their hips and thighs before floating outward around their knees in a simple ruffle.

Daphne tilted her head to the side in contemplation, which Pansy only allowed for a brief moment before her hands settled on her hips in absolute defiance, “I feel like I belong on top of a bloody cake. Please tell me you are not  _ actually  _ considering this?” 

Hermione and Narcissa both stifled a laugh this time as Daphne shot Pansy a glare before turning to the sales witch.“I don’t particularly like the style, but I rather like the colour. Do you have any other dresses in more classic styles that come in that colour?” 

The harried looking witch ran off to the stock room to try to find yet another dress to fit Daphne’s specifications. 

Between Pansy’s fuming over the innumerable dresses that they’d tried on and Astoria’s evident boredom, an uncomfortable silence grew between the bridal party. Hermione cleared her throat, desperate to ease the growing tension. “So Daph, how did your dress fitting go last week?” 

The witch’s pink lips curved upwards into a bright smile. “So well!” she gushed, eyes nearly gazed over with delight. “They hardly had to make any adjustments, it fit so perfectly. I am just ready for Draco to see it. I can’t wait to be married.”

“Ready for him to take it off of you,” Pansy muttered under her breath as the two older witches pretended not to hear but their faces still held knowing smiles. 

The clearly tired sales witch returned with three chiffon dresses in the same ice blue colour as the dress the three bridesmaids were wearing and once again, they retreated into the dressing rooms to change. The simple floor-length wrap dress flattered the three of them from Astoria’s curvaceous figure, Hermione’s soft hips, and Pansy’s lithe form.

Delighted gasps filled the small boutique as the three witches emerged from the dressing rooms, Daphne’s hand coming up to cover her face. “That’s it, that is  _ so  _ it. Mother, can’t you see it? That dress with the ivory and eggshell bouquets? It will be absolutely perfect!” 

“They’re beautiful, darling. Simple, yet elegant,” Daphne’s mother said, glancing between her daughter and Narcissa. 

“Very tasteful, Daphne,” Narcissa added, who had risen from her chair to fuss with the ties of Astoria’s dress. “Quite modern as well.” 

Pansy groaned from where she had retreated into the dressing room. “Thank Circe, I don’t have to wear this ridiculous corset to fit into that dress.” She opened the door and stuck her head out, holding out the bustier and leveling her gaze on Daphne. “I might burn this.” 

Hermione was grateful for the distraction that dress shopping provided but on the way to lunch her mood began to dim once more. Drinks had been ordered and Hermione barely touched hers, stirring the little straw around in the cocktail and picking at her appetizer. 

“Hermione, have you talked to Finn yet?” Pansy asked, popping a fried mushroom into her mouth. 

Hermione froze, not typically one to share details of her love life in front of her friends' family members, but there was something about the way the two older witches smiled at her with kind eyes that made her feel comfortable enough to not change the conversation. 

“Not yet,” she said, pushing a tomato around on her plate with the tines of her fork. “I haven’t built up the courage yet.” 

Daphne reached over and took Hermione’s hand. “It will all work out how it is supposed to. I think even better than you predict.” 

Narcissa and Rhiannon shared a look before the Malfoy matriarch turned her head in concern, “Anything I can give you advice on, dear?”

Pansy grabbed Hermione’s other hand and spoke before Hermione had a chance to open her mouth. “Our lovely Hermione and her boyfriend had a menage-a-trois with his best friend and now she has feelings for both and doesn’t know how to tell them.” 

The heat in Hermione’s cheeks flared. Leave it to Pansy to be as blunt as humanly possible. 

Narcissa raised a perfectly sculpted brow, “I’m certain you’re aware that sexual compatibility does not always correlate to how compatible you are on other levels—emotionally, intellectually, spiritually.”

Teeth sunk into her bottom lip and Hermione drew a deep breath before she responded. “It was meant to be a one off, and truly, the… feelings for the other man began before we ever were intimate.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, "I’ve tried to listen to my heart… but it tells me that I need both of them, and I don’t want to hurt anyone because I can’t make a decision. I really like Finn and I don’t want to lose him… but I don’t think things can go back to how they were.”

“Forgive me for bringing attention to the fact that you are a Muggleborn, my dear, but polyamorous relationships are common in our world, Hermione. Three is a highly powerful constant in Arithmancy, which I’m certain you know, being the intelligent witch you are.” 

Hermione nodded, dotting the tears away from her eyes with her serviette. Three was a highly powerful number in Arithmancy. It was used in many equations to bring balance and strength to the truth held within the numerals. 

“And there are magical implications as well,” Rhiannon added. 

Antonin’s words echoed in her mind.  _ I don’t know entirely what is going on, but it is happening to all three of us. _

“My sister was part of a magical triad,” Daphne’s mother continued. “There was a deep love between her and her husband, but when they found the right witch, even though they had not been looking, she said the connection was indescribable. It was as if nothing was right without her. The three of them have been happily bonded now for a number of years.” 

“Aunt Elissa and Aunt Marion were even pregnant at the same time,” Astoria said with a giddy grin. “The girls should be graduating from Hogwarts this year.” 

  
  


It sounded too good to be true. The mere idea of a magical triad reminded her of something from a muggle fairy tale—three powerful witches harnessing the power of three to cast a spell over their sleepy muggle town for their own gains, or some other such nonsense. 

“You should do whatever makes your heart happy, dear. If that means having both, then so be it,” Narcissa said, a kind smile curving over her lips. “Forget what others may say and use your instincts. Just remember that two men can be hard to keep up with.” 

Hermione felt the press of Pansy’s arm and the other witch’s breath as it tickled her ear, the whisper barely low enough for even Hermione to hear. “See.  _ Spit-roasted. _ ” 

Hermione snorted a laugh and shoved a giggling Pansy away from her at the table, nearly causing the other witch to fall out of her chair. “Thank you for the advice. I think I have a few things to think over.” 

Daphne’s hand wrapped around Hermione’s forearm and she leaned over, plucking a fried mushroom from Hermione’s plate. “Come home with us and take advantage of the library. Maybe there are some ancient tomes in there that could help you gain some clarity?” 

“Good luck getting past Draco,” Pansy teased. “He’s as protective about his  _ bloody _ books as you are.” 

Hermione groaned. 

Draco was waiting for them in the receiving room when the bridal party stepped through the floo, each witch siphoning the ash from their robes before moving off to different parts of the manor, leaving Draco and Hermione by themselves in the ornate foyer. 

“You’ve been hiding things,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the heavily papered walls. 

“I have not,” she countered out of habit before wincing. “Well, not intentionally. It’s complicated.” 

Draco gestured vaguely to her with a wave of his hand. “You’re lucky that you’re even in my home given how incredibly unstable your magic has been.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes at the former Auror turned archivist. “As if I, of all people, would willingly endanger a library of rare and ancient books.” 

He narrowed his eyes, stifling a laugh as if he were unable to keep the charade up any longer and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh herself. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“Shut up, Granger,” he said, crossing the room and hugging Hermione. “You have been secretive though.” 

“Your fiance knows everything.” 

His eyes took on a wistful sheen as he led them from the receiving room, an arm casually draped around Hermione’s shoulders. “I’m impressed she’s kept your secrets.”

“She’s a good friend.”

* * *

The Malfoy library was probably one of the most impressive private libraries in Britain or on the continent. It boasted scrolls dating back to Ancient Egypt, two rare Norse runestones, and even a priceless copy of the first known book of magical spells to be used at Hogwarts, amongst shelves upon shelves of books on every magical topic imaginable. At her request (which Draco thought of as badgering) it even boasted a small section related to Muggle art, science, and history which Hermione made a point to add to every Yule. Ten years ago, she’d sequestered herself amongst the shelves relating to dark magic in an attempt to find out more about the scar Antonin had left on her body, only to come up short. 

While she wanted to dart off straight into the stacks, Draco held her firm and guided her to her favourite set of matching leather wingbacks near one of the windows. He pressed his hands to her shoulders until she sat down and he quickly joined her in the adjacent chair. “Whenever you’re ready,” Draco said, leaning back into the chair and watching her carefully. 

She squirmed under his gaze for a moment until everything that had happened up until that point fell from her lips in a flurry of syllables until tears ran down her cheeks and she found herself blubbering into his chest while he attempted to calm her down. 

“Granger, shh. It’s not so bad as all that.” 

“You’re a shite liar. It’s terrible!” she huffed, pushing away from him and swiping at her eyes with her back of her hand as she began pacing. “I can’t even perform basic spells and I went to a healer, and everything is fine! Fine!  _ Bloody _ rotten witch, nothing is fine! Even the presence of dark magic in my body has lessened, according to the Healer which makes absolutely no sense.”

Hermione’s hands lifted and her fingers tugged through her curls. “And Finn is going to be so mad at me. He’s been sending me owls and I can’t bear to disappoint him so I haven’t even read them.” Her eyes widened and she collapsed into the armchair. “I’m a horrible person.” 

  
  
  


“You’re quite possibly to the least horrible person I know, Granger.” Draco said, crossing the room and nudging her arm so he could perch against the armrest. “There’s nothing wrong with taking a few days to sort yourself out.” 

Hermione pulled her legs up into the chair. “They’re going to hate me. What witch runs away after the best shag of her life?” 

Draco tapped her on the nose. “One who needs to figure out what she wants.” 

She swatted his hand away. “Why do you think I’m here then? To read  _ Ladon the Dragon and the Golden Apple Tree _ ?” 

“Don’t knock a classic,” he deadpanned and she laughed quietly. “I knew them both, you know. Rowle and Dolohov.” 

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she hugged her knees. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” 

“In the end, they were more focused on stopping the Dark Lord and getting out alive than the others. Father and I knew that they lost some battles on purpose, though their alibis were usually tight enough to only warrant a  _ Crucio _ or two—” Hermione shuddered and Draco continued, “Bloody brilliant wizards, both of them.” 

She sniffled, pushing the thoughts of her own torture back into the recesses of her mind. “You think so?” 

“Yeah. It was easy to see how fiercely dedicated they were to each other, but from what I’d heard they’d been friends since they were kids. It wouldn’t surprise me to find if you were magically connected with either of them, the other one would put their feelings aside to make the other happy.” 

Hermione smiled, Draco’s words filling her with a sense of calm. It was something she had always appreciated from the blond. He was cunning and shrewd, but he was honest, and for that, Hermione was grateful. “Thanks Draco.” 

“I know there are at least a few books on triads, one or two that have actually been published and a few family journals.” He stood and tugged her up from the chair, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of her head before dragging her towards a towering shelf of books. “I would let you browse alone, but we all know you would get lost in here and by the time we found you next month, you would have either starved to death trying to read every book in the place or have completely rearranged my sorting system and I couldn’t forgive you for either.” 

Hermione laughed quietly, leaning against her friend as they turned the corner past a hideous lamp made of what she suspected was an Erumpent horn and Hippogriff leather from a bygone era. “Let’s go, then.” 

When they approached the shelf in question, Draco summoned a couple of books from up high while Hermione pulled a few interesting titles from the lower shelves that were within her reach. Their bounty in their arms, they returned to the sitting area to peruse their finds in a bid to find an answer to her conundrum. 

Hermione turned the pages in a small, leather bound journal, eyes narrowed at the aging and angular scrawl while Draco flipped through a well-bound type-set book that couldn’t have been more than 75 years old. 

An hour passed in quiet study, Draco and Hermione only speaking when something interesting came from one of the books in their hands, the roll of parchment sitting next to Hermione on the side table was covered in haphazard notes on the phenomena of magical triads. The clock in the hall chimed and an owl with dark feathers flew through the open doors of the library and perched itself on the edge of Hermione’s chair, gingerly holding out it’s leg for her to remove the two letters from it’s leg. 

Hermione stared at the letters, her name written in different scripts across the envelopes caused her teeth to sink into her lower lip and freeze until the owl nipped at her hand. 

Draco closed the book in his hands, placing it on top of the small stack beside him, “I think it’s time to read those, Hermione.” 

She swallowed loudly and nodded before taking the letters from the owl and turning them over in her hands. 

“I’ll be up there if you need me.” Draco levitated his stack of books and moved to the sitting area on the second floor of the library to give Hermione a bit of privacy. 

On the back of one of the letters was written ‘Read Me First,” so she set the other letter aside and followed the instruction, sliding a finger beneath the seal, cracking the wax. Pulling the letter from the envelope, Hermione’s eyes scanned over each word, drinking in Antonin’s words. 

_ Hermione,  _

_ It is my hope that you have followed instructions and are reading this letter first. I suspect that you have not read any of the others Finn sent, and he has begged me to write to you in the hope that you either catch up on all of them or, at the very least, read these two.  _

_ This will be the last time we write. If this is truly goodbye, we want to thank you. The time we spent together was single-handedly the most fulfilling experience either of us has ever had, but it pales in comparison to how you were able to bring meaning to our lives in just a few months.  _

_ Finn is beside himself with worry that something has happened to you. He nearly mauled the take-out delivery wizard because he thought it would be Potter or little Malfoy telling us something terrible happened. I think you are probably alright, just startled for what you felt during our time together. _

_ If you want this to be the official end, we understand but please let us know your decision if and when you come to it. It will hurt like hell, but we will try to move on if that is truly what you want.  _

_ Wishing you all the best,  _

_ Ant _

Hermione couldn’t stop her tears from falling while reading Antonin’s letter, the salty drops marring the ink on the page as she sniffled. He seemed to be saying everything and nothing and yet, it left her with more questions than answers. Carefully folding the parchment, Hermione gingerly set it aside and opened the letter from Thorfinn, steeling her nerves for what she might read within. 

_ My Dearest Hermione,  _

_ I miss you something fierce. I find myself cuddling my pillow every night desperately wishing it was actually you in my arms. The scent of your shampoo is slowly fading and it’s driving me mad, knowing I may never get the chance to tell you how much you mean to me.  _

_ I am sorry for what I said in my last letter, I was angry. Please don’t hold it against me.  _

_ We need to talk to you, both of us. I want to be with you, regardless of the things that happened between you and Ant. But instead of pouring my heart out to you as I have in my past letters, perhaps a bit of a seduction is in order, given how we met. _

_ You have no idea the things I want to do to you, witch. I’m lost without you and yet, I can still hear the echo of your perfect screams and pleasured moans every night when I dream. The things I dream about might make you blush, sweetheart. That first time in your shower. The way you perfect, pink cunt tastes. Holding you against the way and leaving my mark over the curve of your breasts. My hand pales in comparison to the feel of your tight, little body wrapped around me as I fuck you, each long stroke of my cock bringing you closer to the brink of bliss. Princess, I want to touch you, hear you, feel you tip over that inevitable edge with the sound of my name falling from your lips.  _

_ I need you, Hermione. Please come back to me.  _

_ Please,  _

__ _ Thorfinn J. Rowle  _

  
  


A crimson blush stained Hermione’s cheeks after finishing Thorfinn’s letter. It was heartfelt and so… so  _ Finn. _ She stifled a giggle, her finger tracing over the script outlining his surname as she realized she felt lighter, simply for having read their letters, connecting with them through ink and parchment. 

Hermione lifted her wand to summon another roll of parchment and a quill from the writing desk near the far window, but instead of watching the familiar implements zoom through the air toward her, a single spark fell from her wand to land on the book in her lap, igniting the ancient parchment. 

“No, no, no!” Hermione shrieked, quickly moving to douse the flames, but each spell she cast only seemed to increase the small inferno in her lap, the flames licking at her skin and searing off the tiny hairs until she felt the rush of water over her, thoroughly soaking her, the chair, and the carpets beneath her feet. 

Draco stood before her, red-faced and panting as if he’d run down the stairs from the second floor. “That it,” he said, removing the charred book from her lap and carefully beginning the process of drying it. “Get out, Granger. The last thing I need is you and your unpredictable magic coming in here and setting fire to priceless family heirlooms.” 

His nose wrinkled and he held up the mostly dry book, a stark contrast to her dripping form. “Priceless, Granger.” 

She held up her hands in apology but before she could eek out an “I’m sorry,” Draco was nearly shouting at her. 

“It might be reinforced with a ridiculous number of wards, but my home is still flammable and even though you’re like my bloody sister, you’re not welcome back until your magic calms the fuck down. I don’t fancy losing my home because you and your bloody boyfriends have an unsealed triad bond that’s causing your magic to flare like a bloody aurora!” 

Her mind was reeling and she barely had time to process the words ‘boyfriends’ and ‘triad bond’ before Draco tugged her sopping wet body from her favourite chair, leaving her barely enough time to grab Thorfinn and Antonin’s letters from the table before apparating them both to the receiving room where the Floo was located. 

He took her hand and placed it in the pot of Floo powder, the shimmering sand-like granules coating her hand as Draco pushed her towards the floo. “Go see them, go fuck them, just get out of my house, Granger until you’ve fucking repaired this rift in your magic and you can be trusted to not set an entire library of ancient books on fire!” 

Hermione was nearly bent over giggling by the time Draco finished his little temper tantrum, the tiny granules of Floo powder clinging to her wet clothing. 

“Oh it’s funny now, is it? How about I light your irreplaceable and personal items on fire and see how funny you think it is?” He clutched the book to his chest as if it were his lifeline. 

“Reckless Gryffindors and their disregard for anything sacred,” he muttered. 

Hermione slapped at Draco’s chest, her hand making contact with the expensive fabric of his shirt with a sharp sound. “Hey! I am not reckless! Dig your archivist brain out of whatever preservation hole you’ve buried yourself and dry my robes, you git.” 

Draco scowled as he rubbed the spot where she smacked, “That hurt.” 

Hermione reached for her wand and Draco’s eyes widened. “Don’t you even think about it, witch!” 

Hermione laughed again as he pointed his wand at her and dried her robes, leaving her curls to dry naturally. “I am sorry for almost burning down the Manor, Draco. You know it wasn’t intentional.” 

He muttered something under his breath but she continued, placing her hand on his forearm and smiling up at him. “Thank you for letting me visit the library. I appreciate your help and support.” 

Draco straightened his shirt, “You’re welcome, Hermione… but I meant what I said, you cannot come back until you reconcile your relationship. Your magic is too unstable because of your unsealed bond and―”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that.” 

“I came across it in one of the books I was working through while you were reading the letters. I can make you a copy of it to read… I was going to bring it up before you tried to set my boody house on fire.”

“As soon as you’re able, please.” She was eager to get her hands on it. It was possible that it could explain everything and bonds were a subject she knew very little about. She knew different types of them existed from familial bonds to kindred spirits to even werewolf mates, but there was something about the possibility of a triad bond that made something thrum deep within her. 

“I’ll send it through tonight.” 

Hermione nodded and grasped another handful of Floo powder, stepping into the large fireplace. It was time to sit and read the letters from Thorfinn that were piling up on her desk at home. 


	14. Chapter 14

Thorfinn kept the letter close, clutching it between his fingers as though it were some sort of life preserver and he was adrift at sea. Hermione had owled them late last night, asking if they could all have dinner at the home he and Antonin shared to discuss things. Thorfinn had nearly cried out of a deep sense of relief when he read her words. 

It wasn’t goodbye, at least… not yet. 

_ Not ever _ —or so he hoped. 

He paced the flat, a lead ball of anxiety anchored in his stomach because Hermione was due to arrive any moment. Antonin watched him from the sofa, idly thumbing through one of the journals Thorfinn’s ancestors had left, as if he could possibly gain more knowledge from reading the ancient text a third time. 

Finn had read them all years ago, but paid little mind to the contents. He had been hoping to find information on his family line to prove to the goblins at Gringotts that he was also privy to a smaller vault his Great Aunt Naenia had left him in addition to those he’d inherited as his birthright. Not that he needed the money, but the priceless history of his family was something precious to Thorfinn. The jewelry within could have been made of cut glass for all he cared, but it was part of his heritage and that meant something to him. 

When Hermione’s magic flared and he felt something within him settle and alight at the same time, he knew where to look for answers. 

_ Triad.  _

The word had nearly jumped off of the page and Antonin, being much more skilled at deciphering the runes interspersed with the text had released a string of curses in Russian that Thorfinn wasn’t certain he’d ever heard before. 

_ “What does it mean?” Thorfinn asked, his fingers passing along the line of runes written down the side of the page.  _

_ Antonin’s throat bobbed with a heavy swallow, his eyes following the trace of Finn’s hand. “It… it means that if she refuses… us… the three of us will slowly lose our magic.”  _

_ “Lose our magic?” It was something unheard of, absurd even. Illnesses that weakened a witch or wizard’s magical core weren’t unheard of, though they were exceedingly rare. Divorce in their world was also uncommon because of the intricate bonding ceremonies required to bind one’s magical core to another, but the bonds could still be severed and the witch or wizard would be no less than before. _

_ Antonin pointed at one of the runes, “This means loss,” and his fingers trailed down the remainder of the line, over the tiny, intricately written runes. “Loss of one’s magic without consummation of the triad bond will occur at a rate of three, beginning with instability until the magical core is depleted and rendered inert.”  _

It was madness. 

They read further into the journals, which Antonin was already determined to fully translate and publish, and had they never provoked the triad bond with that first shared moment of intimacy, as accidental as it was, it wouldn’t have mattered. The bond would have never formed between them and Thorfinn would have never had to come to terms with sharing his witch with another man. 

He wasn’t angry. How could he be? 

Antonin was the best man he knew and if he had to choose anyone with whom to share a witch, it would have been him. Though he had been furious at their initial slight, that fury had dissipated as they learned more about the bonds. He recalled once that Antonin said that his magic seemed to be calling to her, and no matter what he did to try and lessen that pull, it only grew stronger. 

Thinking back, Thorfinn had felt it too. The moment he saw Hermione in the pub, he knew he had to do something. Even if he just wanted her safe, he needed to be there. He needed to be with her. It was the same with Antonin when they were younger and again when they reunited in service to the Dark Lord. There was a pull towards Antonin as well, as though a magical string connected the three of them. 

Consummation and acceptance of the bond would only make them stronger, but he didn’t want Hermione to accept the bond out of fear that they would lose their magic if they refused. He wanted her to be with them because she wanted to be. 

Because her heart needed  _ them _ as much as Thorfinn knew he needed her. 

“Your pacing won’t make anything better,” Antonin said, eyes locking on Finn as he lowered the book to his lap. “She will understand.”   
  


“But what if she doesn’t?” Hermione’s letter crinkled when his hand curled into a fist and his fingers pulled roughly through his dark blond hair. 

Antonin had the audacity to laugh. “She’s mad for you, mate. If anything, that alone would convince her to stick around.” 

Thorfinn didn’t understand how he could be so nonchalant about it. He knew his friend was level-headed but this seemed extreme. “How are you so bloody calm?” 

Antonin’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink that made Finn feel smug. “I took a bit of calming draught with my tea.” 

“Arsehole.” 

“There’s plenty more in the cupboard.” 

Finn stopped pacing and with a heavy sigh, his body dropped heavily on to the sofa next to Antonin. “I didn’t even know this woman three months ago, and now I’m left with a choice of her or becoming a squib.”

Antonin’s hand landed on Thorfinn’s forearm, the simple gesture soothed his frayed nerves. “And you would choose her every time, with or without the bond.” 

“I suppose our days of bachelorhood are over.” 

“They were over the moment you brought our witch home. You’ve been crazy about her from the start.” 

A smile crossed Thorfinn’s lips as he recalled the way Hermione’s body felt pressed against him that first night in the bar. “Yeah… I’m overthinking this, aren't I?” 

“You really are.” Antonin said, squeezing Thorfinn’s arm before withdrawing his hand and fiddling with the book in his lap. 

Finn forced a breath of air from his lungs as images of  _ what could be _ flashed through his mind. “What about kids?” 

His entire life he had wanted children, wanted an heir or three to uphold the family legacy and keep the line alive. Family meant everything to him, blood related or otherwise and the loss of his own had been devastating. Antonin filled part of the void that had been left with their passing, but there was still something— _ someone _ missing. 

And he knew Hermione wouldn’t be able to give him that someone. 

Antonin shrugged his shoulders and looked up at Finn from the book in his lap, his fingers fidgeting with the silk ribbon that served as a bookmark. “That is something we should speak to Hermione about. We shouldn’t make decisions for all of us without her present.” 

Before he could say anything further, there was a knock at the door. 

The book in Antonin’s lap snapped shut and the crumpled letter in Thorifnn’s hand was discarded onto the end table as both men jumped to their feet. Antonin stood back as Thorfinn threw open the door, immediately scooping Hermione up into his arms, lifting her petite frame from the ground and pulling her tight against his chest. 

The feel of her, the scent of her, the way her magic coalesced with his own soothed his worries as he buried his nose against her curls, breathing her in. “I missed you, Princess. So much.” 

He felt her relax in his arms, her own arms winding around his neck and holding him close. “I missed you too,” she whispered. 

He caught sight of Antonin over the top of her head and he gingerly set her on the ground, nudging her into Antonin’s arms. Her arms curled around Antonin’s waist and Thorfinn dropped a kiss to the top of her head before stepping back to let them have a moment. 

Antonin smiled down at Hermione and kissed her forehead, “Hello,  _ solnyshko.”  _

She smiled and said “hello” before she stepped back and out of his arms, her eyes darting between the two of them and Thorfinn could nearly see the nervous energy as it tingled over her skin. 

“Before we talk about anything I need to tell you something really important that will impact our future, then we can talk about whatever this is,” she said, gesturing between the three of them.

Finn and Antonin exchanged a glance, nearly identical looks of concern etched over their features as Hermione gestured for them to sit. They obliged, taking a seat on opposite ends of the sofa, automatically leaving a space for her in the middle as she began to pace the room. 

It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to not get back up from the sofa and wrap her up in his arms. Whatever she had to say, it was clear that it weighed heavily on her mind. 

She drew a deep breath and stopped pacing, standing before them with her hands fisted in the fabric of her dress. “I...shite. I don’t know how to say this lightly, so I am just going to get it out. I—I think we are a magical triad.” 

Thorfinn bit back a smirk and he felt relief wash over him. She’d figured it out. Somehow his beautiful, brilliant witch had come to the same conclusion. When she looked away from them, as though she were trying to compose herself, Finn winked at Antonin, trying to signal him to play along. 

Antonin cleared his throat, “And what makes you say that,  _ solnyshko _ .” 

Finn smiled at the pet name his best mate had given Hermione. It was apt as their own bright, shining star had caught them within her orbit, drawing them in and, Thorfinn hoped, refusing to let them go. 

For a split second, Hermione’s eyes made contact with Antonin’s before she paced again and Thorfinn frowned. Was she expecting them to be less than pleased about the bond between them? Bonds were sacred, something to be cherished and carefully nurtured. Knowledge of them was passed down through the old families in journals like the ones he held in his possession, and the realization came over him that she wouldn’t know that. His sweet, feisty Muggleborn wouldn’t have,  _ couldn’t _ have known. 

“I think— well here’s the thing. The magic,  _ our magic _ , has all been affected by whatever this is. My healer says— well she said there is  _ nothing _ wrong with me. I was hoping I was just sick. Like  _ Deperditionem Magicae _ or something equally horrid, but treatable.” She took a deep breath, stopping once more but avoiding eye contact as she watched the cityscape through the open window. “And when it wasn’t, I panicked, unable to understand what  _ else _ might be wrong with me.” 

Finn’s heart ached for her at that, the bitterness in her tone calling back to their earlier conversations about her infertility. He suspected she hadn’t quite come to terms with it as she had previously said. 

“But, my friends calmed me down and I ended up speaking to Narcissa and Mrs. Greengrass, and they both said that we are probably a triad, a _ magical triad _ . I did some research in books I found in Draco’s library and everything points to us being a magical triad, which means—”

He couldn’t take it anymore, watching her eyes grow wide and her chest rise and fall with each anxious breath. Finn stood, crossing the short space between them to wrap Hermione in his arms, tucking her against his chest where he told her what he suspected she already knew, “That our magical cores were linked from the moment we engaged in mutual contact and will continue to be fractured until we make the bond official.” 

He felt her stiffen in his arms, and carefully drew his hands over her back in an attempt to soothe her as he continued. “Once the triad bond is fully settled, we will be able to perform magic seamlessly without the others present. Until then whenever one of us is missing, our magic will constantly be seeking the other members impacted by our shared bond.” 

Finn’s eyes met Antonin’s and he joined them, reaching out to rest his hand on the small of Hermione’s back and Finn knew she felt the bond flare to life by the quiet gasp that left her lips. “The bond will only settle following a ritual ceremony with incantations spoken aloud and a few other intricacies we can discuss at another time. Proximity will stave it off for a while, but our cores will drain of their remaining magic and...” he swallowed, “we will no longer be magical beings.” 

Hermione’s eyes were full of surprise when she finally looked at Finn. “How—how did you...how did you figure that out?”

Finn smiled at her, unable to resist sweetly kissing her on the forehead, the tips of his fingers drawing upward until his hands rested on her shoulders. “Part of my pureblood education, princess. We would have told you the morning after we slept together if you hadn’t run off. We’ve known since the moment Ant licked your pretty little cunt and you blew all the lights out in the entire building.” 

He grinned when a bright pink blush lit up Hermione’s cheeks, her gaze leaving his only to find Antonin’s. “Is that true?” 

Antonin laughed, his arms wrapping around her from behind and kissing her temple, the easy affection between them making Finn’s grin shift into a contented smile.  _ This is how it should be, how it’s meant to be. _

“Not  _ immediately _ after. We found the answers when you were sleeping, but we had a bit of a prod from the ward specialist. Any intimate contact can trigger a bond, though it’s rare. The pull we talked about, how hard it was to resist each other, and the feelings I felt for you just increased tenfold every day I was separated from you. It was a sign that our magical cores had been irrevocably altered.” 

“So, when my magic was settled around Finn?” 

Finn cleared his throat, “That was satisfying part of the bond, but what we didn’t realize is that your core was still reaching for Antonin, even when you thought your magic was fine. If he had never come back, it would have progressively gotten worse until you couldn’t cast anything at all.” 

Hermione, tucking her head against Finn’s chest to hide her face. “So, if Ant and I had never kissed in the first place?” 

Both of their grips tightened around her, desperate to soothe Hermione’s worries. One of Finn’s arms curled around her shoulders while the other petted her hair, and Antonin’s arms were locked around her middle. He didn’t need to see him to know that Antonin was clenching his jaw when he spoke. “According to what Finn has told me, because I missed this part of my pureblood education, because of well—” Antonin drew a deep breath before slowly releasing it, ”—you know… We would have eventually made some kind of contact because a small amount of my magic already resides within you.” 

The fingers of Antonin’s hand gingerly traced where he knew the bottom of the curse scar lay. "It would have pulled us together sooner or later. That day in Muggle London, during the war…” Antonin shook his head and Thorfinn wondered if their magic was working in tandem, even then. “Probably another reason that no relationships ever worked out for any of us, because it was constantly seeking out the other complementary parts to our core.” 

“Inevitable.” The word fell from Finn’s lip before he could stop it. “The three of us, we were inevitable.” 

He felt Hermione curl tighter against him, likely processing the fact that not only had Antonin’s curse brought about part of their bond but the fact that the three of them were destined.  _ Soulmates _ , Muggles called it. It still terrified him to no end knowing that she could still step away, still leave them. 

“What about our future.  _ Your  _ future _ ,”  _ she whispered, “ I—I can’t give you children and I know both of you want them.” 

Thorfinn and Antonin shared a look and Finn took a moment to consider Hermione’s question as he maneuvered the three of them back and onto the sofa. Hermione landed in Antonin’s lap, one arm wrapped around her waist while Finn took her hand in his. “I can’t lie and say it’s not something that is important to me.” He looked between Hermione and Antonin, “Family is everything to me, but I could learn to be content with just you two as my family.” 

Silence filled the space between them and tears filled the corners of Hermione’s eyes, only to fall over her cheeks and land against his hand. He watched as tears rolled down Hermione’s cheeks, “You—you would give up being a father... for me?” 

The way she said it made his heart clench and he knew he would do anything possible to take her hurt away. 

“We could always look into other methods—surrogacy, adoption… or have a curse specialist examine you and see if there is a way to mitigate the effects, if that is something you would like,” Antonin said, his voice quiet and his expression troubled. 

Thorfinn squeezed her hand, “Hermione, is this something you want? Both… both of us?” 

Hermione looked between the two of them and Thorfinn could almost see the thoughts swirling in her mind. 

“Ask your questions, princess.” 

“So, we all have sex?” she blurted out before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. “What about you two? Do you—you know?” 

Finn felt the heat creep up his neck and settle into his cheeks before he looked to Antonin who was also blushing and purposefully diverting his gaze. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “We talked about it, and the three of us together is... I mean we are all in the same place. Close enough anyways.”

It was Hermione’s turn to blush and her hands wrung together in her lap. “Then we date… until we decide it’s time for the bonding ceremony to happen?” 

Finn smiled, taking one of her hands back into his and lifting it to his lips, feathering his lips over her knuckles. “Yes princess. And Ant and I talked about it, and because you and I have had a head start, you need some time alone with him.” 

Hermione closed her eyes, leaning back against Antonin’s chest as his fingers played over her hips. “I’m just—I’m sorry, I am having a hard time wrapping my head around this.” 

“Don’t overthink it,  _ solnyshko _ ,” Antonin begged. “Just… be with us, please.” 

“Please,” Thorfinn said. He couldn’t remember a time in his life save for when his family died at the hands of the Dark Lord that he had ever wanted anything more than this. The bond wasn’t settled, but his family, his future sat before him on the sofa and he needed them as much as he needed air filling his lungs and food in his belly. 

Hermione’s voice was quiet but sure, “Okay.” 

Finn leaned over to kiss her cheek as Antonin did the same, a brilliant spark of electricity rolling over him and leaving him with a feeling of rightness. When he looked between his best friend and their girlfriend, he knew they felt it too. He vowed to never let the two of them feel as though they were alone ever again. 

They were his. 

Family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of part one in a three-part series. We are taking a break for a while to build up a buffer on chapters for Pleasures but have already begun writing it. Feel free to subscribe to the **Praises, Pleasures and Perfection series** for related one-shots and for updates when Pleasures begins posting. :) 
> 
> This story was made infinitely better by our Alpha/Beta team. Curly_Kay, lolitaweasley, msmerlin, AvidReader2008, the four of you have been an amazing support to both of us and we can't thank you enough for your encouragement, sweet comments, and suggestions for how to make this fic better. We are in your debt! <3
> 
> Popping in to add that Ada_Lovelaced made us some AMAZING NSFW fanart of Hermione and the boys. Check it out [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27572533). Thank you, friend! Its beautiful!


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